At the art compound, making other people's art

Art opening, some butternut squash soup, followed by some gin & beer

I'm at the art compound. R is in chargre, but she is in the form of a man, I think, or might go back and forth. I'm getting set up to do some monotypes, though I'm not entirely certain I know how. But before I know it I have this magnificent line drawing gong on my plate and I'm starting to ink in the colors. It feels wrong though, like it's not really mine. Am I a scam, a cheat? I start to lose interest before it's done in any case. It's this grand image, looking through the rustic door of an old barn or factory building to the environment inside and the sky beyond. I quit. But then later I'm being congratulated on my print, which obviously someone has finished for me. But the sky is Collins', the industrial interior is definitely a Gammon.

Skip to the man who runs this sprawling art compound giving an on camera (my view is that of the camera) interview about how this place is the gateway to the Tucson art scene and to Tucson itself. (I guess we're near Tucson.) But cut in is bits of interviews with some of the participants, and they are more dubious, concerned that the compound is not the end all/be all of the Tucson scene.