"Impending " 13.5" x 18" pastel/paper 2001

 

 

Screw 9

She called back a half-hour later.

She said that it wasn't good news.

She said that Ron had no idea there were original paintings in the folder, and had discarded them.

Wow.

She said she felt bad about it, but that this should teach me to never leave unrequested art at a gallery.

Of course, I had understood I was running this risk when I dropped them off. The fact I had not told Ron that there were paintings in the folder was intentional. If I had, he wouldn't of accepted them. I was counting on the foundation of our small relationship, the fact that he seemed receptive to my ideas on the few occasions I had spoken with him, and that he had assured me he would give the folder to Mary.

Still, this news rocked me. I couldn't imagine those three paintings being gone. They were jewels.

She said she was sorry.

I admired her for making the call.

We hung up.

I felt like a zombie for a while after that, as I sat and tried to process this new information.

This project has been such an incredible ride. I reflected on all the places it had taken me: the moments of supreme confidence - the sleepless nights of utter terror; all the hope and expectation - the often bone-jarring realities; all the conversations I have had since my first inspiration to do it - all the people I know so well who never say a word about it.

What does it all mean?

First of all, as always, I found myself being incredibly thankful for the whole of it.

I mean, come on. Think about it. Don't you see where I would be? What do you think about and do every day? Are you excited about your life? Do you jump out of bed in the morning?

I am. I do. How could I not? Look at how I'm putting myself out there! I'm reaching way beyond my present level, as I always have. Everything I am experiencing is new. I've never been here before. I never know what is going to happen next.

Every single one of you can do the same. Every single one of you can start putting your truth out there today, with an eye on learning something completely new. I mean, you love your truth, don't you? Stop limiting your expression of it to all the same people who reply with the all the same attitudes, day in and day out. Try investing somewhere new. See what comes back then. Think about something different for a change.

But nobody does that, because they all seem to be obsessed with building walls and moats around what they already have. "This is who I am" with a fence around it. They only desire safety and security, hanging out with people who think and act as they do, getting what they need to survive, until the day they die a hopefully comfortable death.

What kind of fucked up movie is that? Would you want to sit through even a few hours watching that kind of boring shit in a theater? Why do so many choose to do that for their entire life on this planet? I never understand that shit.

Of course I'm grateful.

This is a cool movie I'm living here.

This new element that has blindsided me, coming from Mary Boone's lips into my ear as I sat in my studio looking at the new series hanging on the wall...wow.

I mean, I miss the paintings. I hope like hell that someone going through the trash on the street found them and has preserved them. They will be worth billions some day.

But this was one fucking intense moment in the movie of my life.

I will remember it always.

Tim Folzenlogen
January 28, 2002