After my showcase at the Jet Hotel in downtown Denver, I felt defeated.  I didn't sell anything;  I barely generated any interest.  I think three people truly were intrigued and spoke to me about my paintings.  The latter half of the show was spent sitting on the couch talking with Brian and playing Scrabble.  

Not a great start.

I did meet a few interesting artists that were more than willing to give me advice and point me in the right direction, for that, I think Susan, Aundra, and Stu.

Of course, when I get knocked down and then metaphorically kicked, what do I do?  Throw myself head first, full speed, in to something.  So I rented a space in the Santa Fe arts district the very next day.  And this certainly rekindled ... something.


Part of me wonders if I even deserve to be amongst these other artists.  There are some mind-blowing paintings about.  The other worries that I'm just going to sink money into a deep dark black hole.  And then there's the little part that says, "what the hell?!"  Maybe I'll be the next Pollock.  Less drunk, but equally as sought after.

So here begins a new journey in a new city.  I've cut the safety cable and it's time for a free fall.

I mean, what's the worse that could happen?