You know, now they do look rather lovely I must say. I mounted the paper illustrations I made to boards and painted the boards black with a little brown tinting to give it some dimension. Then I painted the names of the fish in gold paint (the paintings are artistic AND informative!). I think I will redo the anglerfish’s lettering, it’s too high and not diverse enough in size compared to the other fishies. Other than that, spray with some matte crystal clear and we’re done! I love them, I really do.
Also, in totally unrelated news, I saw Julie Delpy’s movie this weekend, 2 Days In Paris. My boyfriend Cricket loves Julie Delpy. Actually, love is too soft a word. Saying he loves Julie Delpy is, as Dave Barry once said, like calling someone “a heroin fancier”. So as soon as we found out that she had written, directed, produced and acted in a movie, we had to go. Cricket made my parents go as well (“We all must support Julie!”). I didn’t know what to expect, but it was really good. The dialogue was funny and her parents in the film (played by her parents in real life) were hysterical. It didn’t have a point so it’s not going to change anyone’s life, but still a good film worth seeing. It did remind me of one thing – all of Julie’s friends in the film are artists, and they are ANNOYING. Whenever anyone calls me an artist, I bristle. Artists have MUSES and VISIONS and have to CREATE to release these pent-up demons within, blabitty blah blah. I draw and paint because I enjoy it, but I also want to try to make a living from it, and I’m willing to compromise. By the way, this goes for musicians as well. Whenever one of my friends said, “I’m dating a musician!” I would think, “Great, good for you, tell me how that works out.” All of them were shocked when I started dating Cricket, who has quite possibly the most boring job ever (software programmer). But we’re still together (five years!) because no one has to break off a dinner engagement to run home, immerse themselves in paint and throw themselves at a canvas to express the repressed memory of having their lunch money stolen in second grade.