8th of Nets
Aramis could see I'd been crying. It's nice that he noticed, but I was too distraught to discuss my troubles, and retreated to the little studio he generously provides.
Yet another gallery has rejected my silvergraph images. Even after I explained the technical skill involved in the placement of the mannequins, and the difficulties with the silvergraph apparatus itself.
They called them boring. Boring! A jab at my humble upbringing no doubt. Snobbery is rampant in the arts. A portrait of Marquis X or Earl Y, that they would buy. But a still-life made of ordinary objects, captured more honestly by a mechanical marvel, for that they'll turn up their noses.
When my mood improves, I'll go talk to Aramis. At least he makes an effort to appreciate my art.