Art Project

So a couple of weeks ago, at the place I'm working at, this co-op.......I hesitate saying the word student since she's 31 with a 13 year old daughter, but nonetheless, student ends up getting offered a better job that actually would PAY her, and give her a full time job afterwards. Since our place is a registered charitable organization, fat chance of that happening (though understandable. There's a reason that people VOLUNTEER at charities. Charities rarely have money for themselves. Because they are CHARITABLE. Meaning they give it away to people who need it more. With me?)

However, this particular....student....was the assistant events coordinator for this huge event (huge is relative when you're in the boonies. If the 3,000 people we're expecting actually show up? It'll be a mad-house) and the volunteer coordinator.

But now she's gone. And would there really be a reason for me to blog about it if this story didn't somehow involve me? No. So with the other student out of the way, her titles, and workload, now fall to me. Which honestly? I'm counting as a good thing. Sure, they don't pay me NEAR enough to put up with the people I have to deal with, but it's something credible for my resume, and I kind of like planning and bossing. Being volunteer coordinator means I'll have upwards of 60 people to boss around. For my first semi-management position? I'm good with that.

What's got me in a tizzy right now, is the Art Project that came along with this. We're partnering up with a local business that has two big storefront windows that I'm helping to fill up with schtuff and kerfluffle about our event to let the local yokels know what's going on. So I figure, a bit of manoeuvering, some froofing, fabrics, bright colours, a couple of...whatever you put into a display window.

Nope. She wants hand-painted banners. Hand-painted. Oooookay, blood pressure normal with potentially a slight hiccup of elevation. Oh yes, and how are my drawing capabilities? Cue long pause and hesitant intake of breath, which is completely ignored and filled with her own reassurances that I must be excellent or I wouldn't be standing in front of her, staring out of a huge window, blinking aimlessly into the sunlight and wondering why the heck I decided to volunteer for this particular task. Oh yes, and here's what she needs me to draw. An illustration. Done by a MUCH MUCH better artist. On the cover of a book. That the author is coming to promote.

Oh dear lord.

So now my bedroom has become a painting studio, with my 5 foot banner sprawled out across the floor as I attempt to paint a very complicated illustration so that it looks SOMETHING like what it's supposed to, and not like a junior kindergarten finger painting. My sister is less than encouraging in the matter and is more concerned about whether or not the smell of the acrylic paint will disrupt her SIMS time.

Unfortunately, acrylics don't smell like anything and so there shouldn't be any sisterly irritation in the future.
Shame. I have to get my kicks from somewhere.

Wish me luck.

Useless P.S.: If you're interested in learning about blood pressure, even though it won't help you understand why the thought of art makes mine blow through the rough, check out this article by a commenter. He's blog-stalk promoting. I think it's the new craze.