Traveling Exhibition

When searching for the right exhibition to suit your gallery's needs, we suggest taking a few things into consideration. You need to think about your image, think about how you want the public to perceive you and your mission. Do you have a mission? If not, you should get one. There's no point in having a gallery if you don't have a defined set of parameters for the works you'll be showing. "Wait, that's bullshit," you say? Is it? IDK. Do you? Think about it. We like to pay big money for traveling shows, ones that we had no part in organizing, ones that look good anywhere. If you're starting a new space, try showing ONLY traveling shows. Bring your friends. Ask yourself, "would I wear that exhibition to my next dinner party?" The answer should be right there, in your closet.


  1. Like Somebody Cares: I think it is obvious that this blahg would not have been created had it not been for your shit receptacle mouth. However, you have no idea who you fucked with, what you said, whether it was deserved, or not, and you do not know our modus operandi for starting this blog in the first place.

  2. @administrator

    Goodnight & amen! I couldn't have said it better if I tried. More power to you, whoever you are. Somebody needs to shut this guy up. He's really revolting and when no one stands up to him in a separate forum he is empowered to continue his malicious attacks on people- not on ideas. You've provided a space where Vincent can't control or edit the reponses to suit his own truly crazy agenda. Kudos and thanks to you.

  3. Ditto, goodnight & amen. This blahg is great. Whatever the MO is, keep it coming. I laughed aloud at this post.

    A toast to whoever is writing this. Somebody cares, Vincent Romaniello. It's all of us and we all think that you're a piece of shit.

  4. Dear Wittle Boyz Winnies,

    Du u really think wee give a flying fuck wha you loserz think???? U elevate your talentless hairless selves to even think that. Butt one thang u are, which is typical fillytowne crap, is that u have no talent, but are arrogant fucks. This cums wit your white boyz mom paid for everythang background. Entitlement for no f'n reason. The look of this blog and the lack of idees, voice and bad graphics show who u really RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. Weak under age dotardz. This will not bode well for yous and u are all so stupid u don't git it. U have nothing to stand on. The real ablahg does, wee are great and any foolz can see that. Thats what counts whether u like it or not. See you at the next big exhibition we are in, oh yeah, none of u loserz will be in it because u don't have the brain power or the work ethic or talent. Spend time on your work instead off wacking off for each other and maybe after 10 yearz u might be able to wipe our ass. Yippeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  5. Vinnie,
    if you really didn't care, you wouldn't bother to answer. stay on your own blog and monitor your hit counter. that should keep you busy. just keep refreshing and you'll get another hit. and oh yeah, we'll see you in the next Big Exhibition that you'll be in. do we have to hear about the brucennial being extended AGAIN?

  6. Don't yous know how to take the runaround off the text on your blahghole posts. Cause it lookz really weak to have a couple lines squeeshed in and then a weird space yo??? DUH! Du u want someone to helpz u wit it. Well u just go in the edit html and where it says float you write in a zero shit-for-brainz. Any dotard who can write a div tag knows that basic crap. Maybe u can ask one of your smart guru Tyler teenz to teach u sumptin if you give dem a reacharound. F'n expertz at nuttin' round cheer, hah!!!!!!!!!!!!

  7. Unreal City, 60
    Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
    A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
    I had not thought death had undone so many.
    Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
    And each man fixed his eyes before his feet. 65
    Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
    To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
    With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
    There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying 'Stetson!
    'You who were with me in the ships at Mylae! 70
    'That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
    'Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
    'Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
    'Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,
    'Or with his nails he'll dig it up again! 75
    'You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!'


    THE Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,
    Glowed on the marble, where the glass
    Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
    From which a golden Cupidon peeped out 80
    (Another hid his eyes behind his wing)
    Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra
    Reflecting light upon the table as
    The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,
    From satin cases poured in rich profusion; 85
    In vials of ivory and coloured glass
    Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,
    Unguent, powdered, or liquid—troubled, confused
    And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air
    That freshened from the window, these ascended 90
    In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,
    Flung their smoke into the laquearia,
    Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.
    Huge sea-wood fed with copper
    Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone, 95
    In which sad light a carvèd dolphin swam.
    Above the antique mantel was displayed
    As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene
    The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king
    So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale 100
    Filled all the desert with inviolable voice
    And still she cried, and still the world pursues,
    'Jug Jug' to dirty ears.
    And other withered stumps of time
    Were told upon the walls; staring forms 105
    Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.
    Footsteps shuffled on the stair.
    Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair
    Spread out in fiery points
    Glowed into words, then would be savagely still. 110

    'My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
    'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak.
    'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
    'I never know what you are thinking. Think.'

    I think we are in rats' alley 115
    Where the dead men lost their bones.

    'What is that noise?'
    The wind under the door.
    'What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?'
    Nothing again nothing. 120
    'You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
    I remember
    Those are pearls that were his eyes. 125
    'Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?'
    O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag—
    It's so elegant
    So intelligent 130
    'What shall I do now? What shall I do?'
    'I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
    'With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?
    'What shall we ever do?'
    The hot water at ten. 135
    And if it rains, a closed car at four.
    And we shall play a game of chess,
    Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.

  8. Vincent Romaniello,

    You obviously care about what the people writing this think. Otherwise you wouldn't have responded to all of the posts.

    The people writing this are funny and smart. Can't wait to see what they come up with to cause your head to explode like a burning tick.

    I feel very bad for the people who have worked with you in the past.

  9. @Dustin BJH
    il miglior fabbro

  10. oh dig, now he's quoting eliot trying to play like he did it first. oh vincent, you can't keep up even if you try, you pathetic son-of-a-bitch


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