Project Plan B

Just like Sally’s communication with me, Boca’s response to my submission was a single sentence. I’m also pretty certain it was copied and pasted into an email to every failing applicant. They’re busy; I get that, but I’d like to think I’d be more respectful of the artists’ on whose back my enterprise was built.

I submitted a written script and a photograph of seven of my hand-made dress properties and got no information whatsoever other than I lost out.

I’d have appreciated to know where the failure was. Was my script shite? Or was my script okay, but outside their mandate? Was it something worthy of their interest but there were too many other entries that they preferred? They gave nothing to me; they only spoke to their (lack of) need. I’m disappointed in that but not in losing out because my emotions are far more invested in my pleasure with the marble dress.

I started building the “flare” on its skirt. It’s a structural element that really adds to the piece’s visual impact. I can build the umbrella but I can’t add it onto the piece in my condo; I’d never get the whole thing out my door. So it’ll be built separately and added when the show is installed somewhere.

Plan A: Reserve the theatre, take another serious crack at the script and send it to the dramaturge/editor for assessment. If he thinks it has merit, make his revisions and ask other readers for an assessment. If there’s a consensus that it’s worthy, proceed.

Plan B: Not make the theatre reservation, finish the dresses (and maybe more) and have an exhibition of the dresses — with their letters!

I prefer plan B. Plan A is a lot of work and money.

Nicki’s suggestion is that I sell ‘em. Frankly, I can’t imagine anyone wanting one but perhaps at modest prices — $200 (apron, peacock) - $400 (cardinal, marble, deco) —they could sell. Were I to sell six, I’d recover my costs and that’s all I want to do. That was the only reason for the play.

I had these when I was a kid.