Apothecary Shed

Of course we’re biased!  I mean, that’s why we came.  Here’s the acquisition:

Emily Shepardson’s work stands out in the Artomatic chaos, for sure.

This year, Artomatic was spread over 8 floors in the old social security administration building. (Our previous Artomatic run was twelve years earlier in crystal city. We were all so innocent then.)

We found ourselves starting in Emily’s pod on four in the blue quadrant, down a hallway.

But we’re here for the art—well, Emily’s art. We’re here for Emily’s art.

(Cyn bits.)

Look, its the artist.

Buy some Emily for yourself. No really. You think art supports itself?

So anyway, we had to wander the halls for hours. The mix is very mixy. Like a platypus. Who put a duck bill on what?! It lays eggs and has milk? Electric sensory organs?!

The Barbie compass led the way.

There were installations.

There was after before before.

Ant knew immediately that this guy is a real artist. By instinct alone.

There was before after after.

There was too much day-glo. We failed to capture any of it in bits.

You can dance if you want to. Like its the ’20s.

The cookie cutters.

Romey found fabric and lines.

Disco sucks.

It all started melting together.

Sometimes funny.

Sometimes boozy.

Sometimes in need of a good Spring cleaning.

Escape velocity was eventually achieved.

P.S. Mercy Me should be named “Lord Have Mercy Me” or maybe “Just Take It”. Too many hipsters per square inch makes it more of a scene than a restaurant. Gonna flash in that pan. Poof!