Beauty summons its nemesis from the seething hive of envy. -- Jerome du Bois
by Catherine King
Even in my numbed state, I sit down before the computer to recount for you strangers the painful story of the latest mistreatment I suffered, and the shit I was expected to eat. It hurts so much, but naturally, loving myself as I do, I intend to turn that pain outward, so that Glen Lineberry and Lisa Greve feel it instead of me. That would be only fair, since I was just minding my own business when they decided to fuck with me.
My body tells me viscerally that indeed they were fucking with me by this familiar encompassing numbness that now shrouds even my brain. It's part of post-traumatic stress. The numbness is also a signal for someone with poor boundaries, or someone who used to have poor boundaries. It can save the person from further tragedy if they use the numb feeling (oxymoron!) preemptively as a warning sign to stop and get away from others (they are dangerous perpetrators!) immediately.
This post is about witnessing for myself -- a very healthy thing to do, as well as causing pain for my perpetrators -- not only healthy, but very important. I'm still reeling bigtime from the crap they tried to pull on me, and shocked with disappointment that Glen Lineberry and Lisa Greve turned out to be such assholes. Yet I have the presence of mind to do the very best thing for myself. I can recognize that the path to my redemption is sitting right in front of me. I've got this blog, and I know how to use it.
The blog records everything, everything I choose to tell it. This particular thread, that led through Glen Lineberry to Bentley Projects and Lisa Greve with her shady schemes, began just before last October's First Friday. Some readers may remember Jerome's piece, On Second Thought, You Bozos Aren't Worth the Stretch. He and I had been planning to go down Grand Avenue and visit all the galleries. I wanted to feel empowered enough to completely review the whole scene for that First Friday.
But as Friday approached, fear emerged and started running around my brain. The fear was insistent, it could not be denied. It was another warning sign, telling us not to go down to Grand Avenue. Too many people want to do bad things to me and Jerome. I really so intended to be thorough with the First Friday review. To write about the art, such as it was, in a way that I myself would critically appreciate. You know, to say something original and substantive.
Well, the icy feeling of dread put a wet blanket on that outing. The process of allowing the icy dread to surface and become conscious was not fun at all. And it took a couple of days. But better to do that in the safety of home than go charging out into the cruel world with a false sense of security. It was at this time that Jerome wrote the piece stating that we were withdrawing from the local art scene -- too empty and vicious.
And that brought out Glen Lineberry, expressing regret at our departure. Actually, it was the second time he had contacted us, making something kind of like overtures, even though we had been bad and written "ad hominem" things about people. Jerome wondered why Glen Lineberry would want to be friendly with us after the way we criticized his wife, the curator at ASU Art Museum. Her name is Heather something, I believe. . . . Oh yes, now I remember: It's Heather Lineberry -- they share the same last name.
Anyway, early last October, while these sophisticated, creative class people, with their tough glamour jobs on the front lines of eliteism, were guarding the gates for the rest of us against an onslaught of overly democratic art, I was sitting at our dining room table arranging flowers. I wrote about the flower arranging as sort of a pastime in Photography by Catherine King: Meet My Collaborators.
But really the flower arranging was more than a pastime-- it was my therapy for a physical hit I took earlier last year. I started arranging in late August, and immediately began to photograph and post the pictures just because the flowers were beautiful and lovely to capture and share. I may be hard for some people to take, but the flowers should be easy on anyone's eyes, right?
Damn, so much water has gone under so many bridges for me since that time, just a season ago. Bridges that Jerome and I built ourselves, most washed out by now. I suppose the way I feel might be comparable to how farmers would feel after busting their asses nurturing several fields of crops, only to lose the whole season's harvest before one penny can be recovered.
Story of my life. How many times has this sort of crap happened? As I told Jerome to tell Glen Lineberry to tell Lisa Greeve, "I've been getting fucked over professionally, Lisa, since before you were born". I'd say Lisa Greve must be in her mid-twenties. Mightn't twenty five years of crap become rather wearing? Why should I excuse her unprofessionalism when it's me she's mistreating? Why ask that last question?
No. I get treated straight or I am gone. No matter how big is that carrot you dangle in front of me, Glen Lineberry.
Back to our dining room table, last September. I'm sitting there making one of my early arrangements. Jerome is over at the computer. "I think we should get back to Glen Lineberry, to see what he wants", I said to Jerome for about the third time in as many weeks. We had talked about it, but were busy doing other things. But now it was time to stop puzzling about his motivations, and go have our curiousities satisfied, we agreed. We decided we were ready to take Glen Lineberry up on that offer of a tour of Bentley Projects.
Jerome e-mailed Glen Lineberry, who got back to us immediately. The tour and little mystery meeting were set up for x x x. Of course I was excited. We both were. We had read in local rags that Glen Lineberry planned on incorporating local artists in the gigantic new Bentley Projects. That could be what he wanted to see us about, because, it must be said, there just isn't that much good local art around. So therefore, things were looking hopeful for us as far as getting representation at Bentley Projects. What did we have to lose by going down there?
So we go down there, and as I recall, Glen Lineberry independently showed us around the vast Bentley Projects estate.(I will never have anything positive to say about anything I've seen there except a Chuck Close, whom I and everybody love, but, even Chuck Close's could get boring after a while, not that he's on some schitck. Because we all love Chuck Close).
After the personally guide tour of "The Projects" by Glen Lineberry, the excitement, at least as far as I could feel it, was so thick one could cut it with a knife. As he invited Jerome and I to sit down at the conference table, Lisa Greve appeared and was introduced. Remember, or understand, dear reader, that Jerome and I were well prepared for this meeting, with a handfull of projects and proposals ready. Because, obviously, BUSINESS WAS ABOUT TO BE DISCUSSED.
The next important thing that happened was Glen Lineberry saying awkwardly, or appearing to be awkward while saying, "I usually get to the point first, but . . ." Already, in two seconds, I was wondering why he didn't get to the point first as usual and why not with us, if with every one else.
"I usually get to the point first, but . . ." How long does it take for a person to say that? But by the time he was done with those eight little words, my expectations were, well, I guess you'd have to say that a lot of hopes and dreams were hanging on every little syllable coming from this very important little man. People do have so many hard-earned hopes and dreams hanging on guys like Glen Lineberry, and guys like Glen Lineberry know it, although I didn't know what kind of guy Glen Lineberry was just yet. . .
He looked up at me sheepishly, "... It's about your photographs." And then Jerome said, "The flower photographs?" and Glen Lineberry said "Yes".
Eight more little words, and all that went behind, into, around and before them. This is what I thought in those two seconds. . . Wow, the photographs!, but what a thick way to talk -- my photographs -- what did that mean, because, as the reader should know by now (Photography by Catherine King: Meet My Collaborators), I do two kinds of photography-- flowers and paranoramal.
Isn't it disappointing when people won't talk straight?
Posted by Jerome at January 14, 2005 06:27 PM | TrackBack