« Home

How dee do

Working in the arts is hard and hilarious and requires a certain degree of sillyness at all times. Between dealing with difficult artists, curators and the media, my world fluctuates between being an utter circus to a comedy of errors. Of course, if I wanted it any other way I would have become an accountant.

As per the profile, I am 28 years old and I work in the arts, specifically in a wonderful, magical art gallery. I am officially an officer of communications, without the badge or the authority it seems. I do have a name tag though and it is silver, which is close enough, I guess.

On a daily basis I work with creative people (of which I would like to think I am one) from all over North America (depending on what exhibition I am planning to promote), less creative types (the ones who generally keep things running) and the media (who I alternate between loving and despising depending on the circumstance). Recently, my job became easier (and prettier) with the installation of Adobe Creative Suite on my computer and I am in love with the potential ads and graphics I will be able to create. The installation itself was extremely painful and took no less than four days with no help from the foul people at Adobe who are misleadingly call themselves "customer service representatives." We in the arts do not have technical people to assist us with the installation of programs. The trick is, to click "run" and pray to everything mighty that it works. It often doesn't.

When I am not fighting with my computer, fighting with artists, fighting with administrators or fighting with media, I am meeting with people- mostly people who want to sell me things like advertising space or "partnerships" (please note that a partnership is a fancy word for someone who wants me to give them money to generally do very little for me in return). I also have many, many meetings. There is a meeting for every occasion and every decision. Sometimes they feed us at meetings (those are good meetings), but mostly we sit around listening to our growing stomachs. But a full calendar does make me feel important. You want to meet with me? There's a two week wait. Zap!

The title of this blog, Prima Gallerina, was ripped off from an
article I read months and months ago (before I was actually a Gallerina and only a lowly arts worker) in the National Post about the nature of the new creature dubbed Gallerina. We are a fancy breed. We jump and dance, twirl and make pretty pictures with our toes. Our wardrobe consists of bits of film installation, gobs of paint and crystals. And we always, always smile.