Paul Dorrell’s Blog

The art world, glamorous? You bet. I spent the day working out a three-budget option for one of my clients: crunching numbers, rearrranging installations, offering small works, large works, moderate-sized works. All this on paper. Then I checked invoicing for another. Then drew up a proposal for a third. Bored me to tears. The trade-off? I’m self-employed in the wealthiest country in the world. Not a day goes by that I don’t ponder the wonder of that, and try to give back as a consequence.

I don’t know nothin about glamour, but the fun comes later, when we install the pieces and the client just goes nuts. It’s good to exceed their expectations.

Went home early this evening to work out with my youngest son. He’s almost 16, and wants to change his physique. So we started the process in November, and he’s making good progress. Could already tell the diff in our last football game, the way he broke tackles. I’m kind of his personal trainer. Do we take it seriously? Nah. Mostly we have fun, and always we listen to rock n roll. Tonight, Dark Side of the Moon. Hadn’t heard the whole album since the Seventies. Some trip.

I remember a concert in ‘73 where all these acid heads were tripping away, and Floyd set off a sky rocket on a guy wire that came flying in from the back of Memorial Hall, then smashed into this enormous gong. As a buddy of mine said at the time, “Man, they were carrying dudes out that freaking show.” Only he didn’t say freaking.

I told my son the story between excercises. We both laughed.

Swear to God, he plays like a young David Gilmour. Skilled beyond his years. Wonder where it will lead. Somewhere worthwhile, I think. I’ll ride a quiet sort of shotgun to make sure.