Why am I doing artist proof paintings? Don't I have, like, actual work to do?
That's a very good question, Voice in My Head. You see, I normally only do AP sketches and the like at conventions. The rest of the time, I'm buried up to my vestigial gills in too many projects and promises. I often forget that humans need sleep, and that despite my best efforts, I'm still human.
Smash-cut non-sequitur: the ReedPop Magic Con events are... well, let's just say they book artists in a way that confuses and frustrates and ends with a lot of drinking. I've been rejected from three out of four. They don't tell you you're not coming until a couple months before the show. In exhibitor time, That's like being stood up. You made your plans, you turned down other promising adventures, maybe you even waxed some things. Then at the last minute, Magic Con texts you "Met somebody better at the restaurant we were going to meet at. Best tell your Uber to turn around and take you to Baskin Robbins instead. But maybe we'll hook up next time, if I feel like slumming it."
So guess what? I scheduled time for Magic Con Amsterdam, but I'm not going! Instead of doing the smart thing, which would be wrangling the wily menagerie of things I'm behind on, I'm going to do what I would have in Amsterdam, had I been deemed worthy. Sketches, paintings, alters. And probably ranting, telling rambling pointless stories, and befuddledly answering questions poorly. I should probably put a camera in front of me for that. It looks less crazy than telling stories to my action figures. They've heard it all anyway.
Bonus for all of us - we don't have to pay for a flight, hotel. I can do stuff that takes a bit more time, like these mini-oil paintings. Nobody has to stand in line. We can all wear pajamas.
I'm tentatively calling it Reject-o-Con 2024, and it will most likely be held on my couch.
Stay tuned.