I suppose artophobia could be the fear of going to art museums and being asked what you think about a particular work. It could be the fear of someone in need of a poster asking, “Hey, can you draw?” Or it could be a fear of art teachers in peasant skirts.

But for the moment, artophobia means the fear of showing someone my work. Yeah, it’s a bit silly since I’ve got art on flckr and I’ve agreed to do an art show next year (now, there’s a panic attack I can put on my calendar!). Nonetheless, I agreed to do this take a gift and pass a gift on to five more people (only got three to take me up on it, by the way–clearing of throat here) and I’ve frightened myself.

Why on earth did I agree to send strangers art? Why did I think this was a good idea? I have no idea what kind of art they like. Art is tricky. You can’t just give art to someone. But there you go–that’s what I’ve done. Or am about to do.

After much useless angst, I decided on what to make, finished putting the pieces together this evening, and am going to the post office tomorrow. These little art works (and they are little) will travel north to other homes, and after that? I have no more idea what happens to art after it leaves my house than I know what happens to people after they die. Maybe they just disappear. Maybe they get hung on walls. I don’t know.

Anyway, I’ve got two spots left in the art afterlife. Like something? Just make me a promise

2 thoughts on “artophobia

  1. I got mine! And I am ecstatic! It is really, really, really, really cool. So cool you wish you had one! (Now I’ve got to go make that offer meeself on my LJ page…)

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