art is just a dream.

Last night I dreamt I was making art for exhibitions. They were student exhibitions but the art was incredible.

Reflecting on my art, it's like I was a slightly less famous, female version of Matthew Barney. I had the multiple textures thing going, with gelatinous sculpture, and the animals sculpted of something else.
I had one installation with some sort of metallic instruments screwed to off-lime green gelatinous hoses that reached to the ceiling.
The metallic instruments rested on a table, and under the table were two animals facing either direction.

I remember the process of getting myself and the art there--baggage, tickets, airplane, anxiety and all. And I remember, walking through the exhibition when it was finally all ready, thinking how profound my piece was and hoping people would spend enough time looking at it to understand.