Perhaps I should look at my coffee addiction.

I didn't mean to sound so jaded with the contemporary art scene in yesterday's posts. It's more about my own struggle with beauty and painting. There's something reassuring and faithful about painting- comforting, but still sexy after all these years. Paintings are mysterious. Some paintings more than others. Maybe that's what I look for in art- mystery and substance.

I'm still reading through The Beat and the Buzz and I can't decide whether I should be embarrassed by admitting this or not. Like whether it's too close to admitting one reads the National Inquirer. (I don't.) I came across a passage talking about a small consortium of collectors as art hedge fund investors. I think I may have been introduced to someone like this in a studio visit earlier this year. I deleted most if not all of that particular post. Restraint of Wacom pen and tongue.

More importantly, I found 2 boxes of Chemex coffee filters at The Coffee Conservatory in Culver City, the last bastion of independent coffee houses. You people do not know how I have suffered. I was giddy at the prospect of having my coffee this morning and am already excited about brewing coffee tomorrow.

Carla posted some pics of when she lived in a trailer in the 90's. Suddenly, I found the idea of a trailer a very attractive option. I don't know how Matt and I going to divide the house. Sometimes I think it might be nice to offer a 1-person artist residency for a modest fee or convert the office back into an attractive guest bedroom and rent it to out-of-town art peeps. I wouldn't charge anyone for Thursday. That's when the yardmen invade the neighborhood and the garbage trucks come by. Thursday is rather nerve-wracking.

Here's one of the places I lived in the early 90's. This was the loft I lived in right before I was accepted to grad school. I think it was $400 for about 1000 square feet. There wasn't a kitchen but there was this long industrial kitchen sink, the kind you see in restaurants. There was virtually no divison between my art and my life. The bedroom and bathroom were lofted above. After that, it was a a blur. There was a bay of windows up top. It was more like a sunken loft space. I'd freak out if I lived like this today.