Saturday the Twelfth of August and the mornings rage abated. The matter of the refused picture at the exhibition is infuriating, it having been refused before the jury made its decision. The jury is just whitewash. There will be no participation next year, it is hard enough to make the decision to place an entry without having to put up with corruption.
bah.
Made a print in the morning for the artist who wanted the print last night. The search for the picture among the old hard discs took almost an hour, but then it was found. With the new understanding of the software it was possible to clean up the colours more than had been hitherto possible.
Pop the print into an envelope and bring it over to the artists studio. He is not there, he will only be there in the night. He is a night owl and he is proud of it. Leave it at the door, he will most likely find it.
The gathering of the opinionated arty crowd is boring shit as usual, but it is possible to pick up the picture. They all like it , and the owner of the gallery holds his peace.
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