Peas Are Not Art

It's been a long time between blogs but if you had just wasted an hour and a half of your precious time waiting for a free studio while ageing perpetual Arts students take shadowed photos of toenails or peas or something equally as inspiring, you'd be peeved off enough to abandon cooking your gourmet family dinner (of sausages; I am probably spreading salmonella all over the keyboard as I vent) to get back on the blogging horse. And leave punctuation and short Hemingway sentences far, far behind.

Because, people, I am not paying my staff generous amounts to sit around and eat youghurt sultanas and other assorted health food store snacks while we wait for op-shop clad wannabe photographers to get their act together, figuratively and literally. Usually I love arty types; I admire their ability to throw mismatched outfits together and look damn cool; they hold interesting conversations and are usually chilled out, easy going people (it's just their art that is brooding and dark. That, or they hide it very well); they make great friends and probably great pets too. But they have an innate inability to observe the rules of a booking sheet, to follow a clock, and to appreciate that some of us work for a living (nasty! vicious! you capitalist cow!). I'm sorry but we now have to lug copious amounts of clothes and accessories, cameras, lights, bags and ourselves back there tomorrow, still not 100% certain that we'll be able to get it done. Grrr. This would usually pave the way for a classic Things That Piss Me Off Post but my sausages are sizzling at me, turning to a pitiful shade of charcoal. There is more to come though, don't worry....and incidentally, peas make much better crispy snacks than they do still life portraits. Hmph.