A round of claws for the artist please

A natural frustration has descended on the house and I can only assume it is something to do with the absence of any gallery progress. Not that they have been blitzed by either the artist or the artist’s husband with examples of the work – and maybe that is the problem. That said, gallerists even at the best of times don’t exactly endear themselves. I have mentioned previously their disappearing trick when it comes to incoming artists. Some are fantastic, I have said, but others are indeed like trickster absentees. For example the gallerist whom the artist emailed, as promised, recently - well, a month ago - about coming to see her work in person hasn’t even had the courtesy to reply. And they were the ones who in the first place on the back of some colour reproductions invited the artist to be in a group show. So what is going on here? Apart from anything else, though I do not wish to be misconstrued as threatening, an artist is a sensitive being. An artist is often an artist because it is impossible for them to be anything else. They require kid gloves. Yes, they are fragile. Yes, they can break. No, it does matter. And if they are talented they can deserve this unusual degree of protection, though without it they can also perish on the vine. I remember one person when I was twenty-two jumping to their death in a fast-flowing river because of rejection. Not that their circumstances were comparable with the artist's. But manners - and their importances - do run deep. I should know: I have failed before myself. Or is it nothing to do with art or artists? Is it simply a fact that grace and sensitivity has been sucked from the fabric of our culture? Are manners no longer seen as the management of emotion but the bane of commercial progress? Certainly people today seem to care only about moolah, lolly, greenbacks, doe, spondoolies. Mind you, that’s probably why they are rich and we are not. Still - bringing the blog back home again - the artist will reach her mountain top. I can promise you that. (We can't afford to disbelieve this fact.) But we will not apply the normal rules of engagement here. Oh no. The artist might just show you up.