My little self-portrait is in the Essere show at Park Nicollet Clinic, but when I biked over there on Friday to check out the art, I couldn't find any of it. I checked all three floors. Then, the staff looked at me like I was from another planet when I politely asked about the location of self-portraits. I never did find them!
Allegedly, the show runs June through September, but I doubt I'll go back. Not only was I totally frustrated about not being able to find the art, or anyone who knew anything about the art, but there was only room for three bicycles on the bike rack (compared to a 30-car parking lot, of course), and it was full, so I had to leave my cute new two-wheeler around the block by the sketchy bus stop. (Have you noticed that I'm acutely skittish? It's [partially*] due to being sick of having all our shit stolen!)
*And partially due to the fact that I'm the kind of vexing person who startles easily. Who jumps a mile when the phone rings. With frequency, I actually yelp in alarm when my poor, gentle husband makes his presence known in a room I did not hear him enter.
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