Ever since my project of portraits of my co-workers, posing with their spirit animals, got off the ground and elicited interest and enthusiasm, a scene from a movie started repeatedly running through my head. I always meant to write a post about this scene, but I wasn't sure how I would articulate the way in which the scene expressed my feelings.
So I waited.
And now that every day I watch crowds of people (well, several toddlers at least) pour over my display of artwork, the scene from this movie comes to me more than ever. It is towards the end of the movie, and the movie is called Rushmore. In it, a precocious teenager who just wrote, directed, and starred in a High School play about the Vietnam War, is, in his moment of triumph, finding that everything he wanted is slipping away from him. Inappropriately plied with alcohol by Bill Murray's character, he throws a bit of a fit that breaks the patina of his composure and reveals the strain of his adolescent development. "I wrote a hit play! I wrote a hit play!" He insists, as if having created something popular, or of power, should come with special rewards, respect, license, and love.
And so it is for six months, in the shadow of my popular and much discussed photography series, and as my work world remains nevertheless the same, filled with its constant small indignities, irritations, and lack of special dispensations, there is, sounding like a bell in my head (albeit with a touch of humorous irony) "BUT I WROTE A HIT PLAY!!!!!".
I am not sixteen though. So I try to keep it to myself.
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