Review: My Party

I still wouldn't call myself an artist, but I think I took a pretty positive step Saturday night.

I hosted a party at my apartment last night to display and sell my photography. It was my first such "opening," if you will. I sent the evite out to about 90 people, hoping a third would show up. Some replied that they'd come, and didn't show up, but others who didn't reply did end up visiting, so things seemed to even out, and I had about 35 people in my small Upper East Side crib to look at my work, and more importantly, drink free alcohol.

At its peak, there were about 20-25 people here at once for a good 90 minutes. A complete stranger from MySpace stopped by, as did a friendly gal I met on the subway platform a few weeks ago. Cousin John McIntosh and wife Kalia also made appearances, not to mention multiple purchases. My new friend Marc Boriosi brought his good buddy Mark Rapp and some other friends after Rapp performed at Rockwood Music Hall. Marc with a C asked me a couple weeks ago if I wanted to send my partygoers to Mark with a K's performance before my party, but I knew I'd be stressed out trying to get my place ready. Since, however, Rapp briefly played his didgeridoo for impressed party people here, I certainly owe him some return support.

Beer, liquor and wine were on the menu, as were pineapple-and-cheddar, bloody mary pops, a lovely cucumber-goat cheese-sun dried tomato appetizer and prosciutto and melon. Late night bananas foster is a staple.

At my previous TV jobs in Cincinnati and Louisville, on-air friends weren't afraid or too cool to attend my parties. But where I work now is Diva Central, so I wasn't expecting any of those pretties, which is why I was quite pleased when one reporter did come by after delivering the news after 11 or so.

In all, I sold 13 pieces and also collected a handful of promises of future purchases. What made me most happy is that lots of the pictures I put out there drew a variety of raves, not just the same four or five.

I live just a few blocks down from the Met, and this spring I plan to take my prints there and sit among the real artists, trying to sell my stuff. Maybe I'll get a Web site together this year as well. The sooner I start making some money, the sooner my hair can go from scraggly to "interesting" and my personality from weird to eccentric. I'll always favor the dorky glasses, but I'll definitely be shaving off this full orange beard on March 18.