Title doesn’t really mean anything; I was just looking at another Memo on the interwebs and went, "oh yeah, that Memo from last night…"
ONE + MONTHS LATER:
Good grief, this shot has been in "drafts" in my phone for over a month! I was sitting with friends at the Corner Grill on Sanibel Island. This giant painting loomed over our table. Other paintings in the same style hung around the place. All were full of whimsey but not Picaso or anything like that.
The next day I Googled the artist, found her web page and her Facebook fan page, read her bio, read her status updates and decided I didn’t like her. I decided she’d been raised as a special little snowflake by overly-indulgent parents who filled her head full of herself. She just comes off as so full of arrogant conviction in her own brilliance when it’s clear that she’s been blessed with pleasantly average talent.
I’ve read more than once that we tend to dislike in others our very own worst traits. However, I’ve seen little evidence of this theory in real life, and this situation is no exception. I only WISH my parents had provided the least bit of encouragement, the smallest prod toward artistic endeavors.
Maybe that’s the source of my distaste.