Proud of myself

In that half sensear half looking down on myself way that I get when doing something that's hard for me, but that is easy to others.

This morning we were supposed to go hang some art in an exhibition in Chelsea, it was an open show - just bring your art and put it on the wall.

Then Ned woulden't wake up. He fall asleep only a few hours before. After an hour I decided to go on my own instead of waiting till he wakes up and we miss our chance for wall space.

I didn't quite know where the show is, or how will I manage hanging the art and interaction. Eventually on the way I had to tell myself that if I get there even just to see the art, I'm good, and I didn't fail just to get myself going.

Eventually, I did put up Ned's photos and my deawings.

Not hanging as nice as I wanted, not getting a space as good as I wanted but it was up there, on the wall eventually.

While that was going on, I talked to  a bunch of other artists, a guard, an Israeli girl looking for a hammer and a writer for the Art section of the New York time