Out of the Cave

American life is coming back to me. For the past two and a half years, we've lived on our own schedules, doing our own thing on our own time and not worrying about the usual things you worry about in a usual life. We've been back for seven months and yesterday I went to a job interview. That's the crux of the usual life, and the thing we are always wary of.

It's not the usual day job though. The place is called Phoenix Art Group and I'd be interviewing for a position as an artist. So this isn't the usual trip, but it's still working for someone else, and that's something I haven't done for a while. The interviewing process itself is a bit...weird. I'm not used to it. The thing I wasn't expecting was being nervous. I wasn't in the beginning, but then I realized I actually wanted the job. If it was a waitress interview, I couldn't care less.

My error was asking the receptionist to explain how it works there. As it turns out, there's a lot of learning in the job. If you know me at all, you know learning turns me on. That's right, I can't get enough of it, and I'm particularly hungry lately for learning things pertaining to art. I'm an alright artist, but I make it all up, and lately I'm looking for some technique. Well it just so happens that they teach exactly that in this job. So this is how it works:

A designer creates a piece: acrylic, oil or metal sculpture. Then they have a show. When a company or person diggs it, the designer comes back and gathers up all his little artists and then goes on to teach them how to recreate the piece. Yeah, it's mass production, and it's for companies. A lot of it is "contemporary", the kind of artwork I can't stand, but I can't help but think of correlations to the age old art apprentice. The head guy designed it and then taught his little artists how to paint it for him. Michelangelo was not the only artist who laid his brush on the Sistine Chapel, it was a big project and you can be damn sure that he had all his apprentices painting that ceiling too. For all I know, the Sistine Chapel is the exception, but that's how it went.
Okay, this ain't no Sistine Chapel. This is corporate art. I'm not looking at it as great artwork, but it's the teaching in there I'm looking at. They have TECHNIQUE. They teach you how to put the paint down, what to mix it with, how to order the layers, how to use materials that I DON'T USE, and if they let me, teaching me how to do metal sculpture. I could use all of that in my own art, and make it something really great.

See, now I want the job. And now I'm nervous.

I didn't have the actual interview yet. I just went in and talked to the receptionist and did the application bit. When I first came in, I just brought my portfolio. Rachel, the receptionist, tells me they only take CDs or slides and that they won't see anyone until after they have that with the application. So I take the application and ask her questions. Rachel tells me they're not looking for anyone right now, but would hire someone who really shines. She asks if she can look through my portfolio while I'm filling out the application and of course I let her. She "looks" through my portfolio, if you can call speed skimming "looking". Surprisingly, when she finishes, she jumps on the phone and calls up the person who will be reviewing my work and tries to get me an interview right there on the spot. Needless to say, this got my hopes up a bit. Unfortunately, the woman on the other end of the phone stuck to the rules and said she'd have to see the cd I put together first.
So I gather up my portfolio and go home to make the cd, put on my bio and 10 of my best pieces and hurry back.
So now, I'm waiting.... impatiently.

This is weird. I want them to be impressed by my work and give me a chance. This is a job, and I want it.

By the way, these are two new pieces of mine that I put on the CD. I think I'm getting better recently. I've been asking people to critique my work and I've been actually taking notes on what I need to improve. So these are the first two results of my note taking.