We collected Shells and I Got Attacked by Seagulls. It Was Great.

We were beginning the process of solidifying the pieces that would be included in the More Stately Mansions exhibition. A lot of the work that I’ve done while in college has been crappy part-time jobs and internships that have been beneficial, but work, nevertheless. It’s nice to work somewhere that I can be productive in a space that is not confined by ceilings. The air was just above lukewarm and the sun only a little shy. It was as a good day as any to take a quick business trip to Atlantic City. Veronica, Emily. Veronica’s other assistant, and I rode to Jersey where we checked out Jim Dessicino’s at-home studio and artwork for the exhibition.

I would describe his work here, but I refuse to release spoilers. Come to the show. It’ll be worth it. It seemed the theme of heritage and tradition was inescapable for him. The house that he lives in belonged to his grandparents, and his studio was his grandmother’s hair salon. It’s like an art space that evolves. Inside were sculptures, some of faces, and to no surprise, some of naked bodies (I’m convinced that all visual artists are or were at some point obsessed with nudity, but all artists probably are. We want to explore or exhibit what’s beneath the garments we hide ourselves with. Maybe.). What I found most fascinating was his portrait of his grandfather, adorned in what looked like a tailored tuxedo, presented in front of a detailed background featuring ancient symbols of luxury and wealth. Another piece that I found myself thinking about after visiting was of an African “bag-man.” It was about the men who come from countries in Africa and end up in positions where their only source of income comes from selling fake knock-off bags due to citizenship and passport complications.  A few months ago, I was thinking of writing a fiction story about the men who sell oils on sidewalks and on the subway and the el. Now I’m inspired to do homework to discover the reasons that men, typically African-American muslim men, grab people’s wrists and rub fragrances on them instead of doing other things to make money.

Afterward, we went to the beach for a couple of hours. We collected seashells and  I spent fifteen bucks on food that would have costed me, maybe, $7.50 anywhere else that was not on the boardwalk. I almost lost that same food to a flash mob of Seagulls who chased me into the ladies’ restroom. Moral of the story: if you are hungry at the beach, it is safer and more cost efficient to starve.