I've never really enjoyed these shows. It's not the content. I really do like the stuff on display generally. I quite like the venue too, well not in a huge way but it is (for lack of a better word) very cool.
The artist tonight is a pretty, mousey-looking girl who I've met several times since joining the OIC (an online drawing/art club of sorts). I don't think I've ever spoken to her properly, but her stuff is quite refreshing, and tonight, I'm staring at a magic maker drawing of two people fucking. I'd been drawn there by eaves dropping on a couple who'd looked like they were quite serious about the work and were talking about their favorites. The red haired lady had brought the Scotsman here and I'd rather unassumingly tagged along. The Scottsman, releases a farting sound from his lips, and mutters something along the lines of it being his least favorite, followed by a string of slurred and heavily accented profanities. The redhead rises up to articulate what exactly she likes about it, at which point the scottsman (now thoroughly aggravated) says something to the effect of 'well if that's how you feel, have a goodnight'. I head footsteps walking away behind me, followed by a heavy sigh and a muffled statement from the redhead.
I hadn't realised, but in the tenseness of the situation I'd actually reached for a large hand-stitched beaver (also on display) and was now pretending to be throughly engrossed with the reverse of its tail.
I feel a hot flush come over me. before I hear yet another resigned and muffled statement form the redheaded lady who is still standing behind me staring at the picture.
At For some reason I turn around and say 'I'm sorry?',
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