This week, City Arts Blog began a new artists' series "from the worktable" called "What R U Working On?", wherein featured artists write a bit about their studio practise. I was delighted at the invitation to participate since as you know, discussing and demystifying the process is what I'm all about.
I've been thinking a lot on this prior (antiquated) but still practised idea of the artist's private studio. I know the perceived historical tradition is to sequester one's self away in a tower and feverishly work until it's done so that the Grand Reveal blows the minds of the public away. Of course I'm being glib - after all, how many eyes witnessed public works such as the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel (an easy historical reach), the Hagia Sophia, or any other number of works-in-progress which artists may have exposed over time to curious eyes? I can only speculate. The Vatican isn't exactly public domain and at a certain point, even such a piece of art as the Hagia Sophia is simply architecture being built over time.
Closer to the point, I was thinking of how more contemporary individuals might deal with the (seemingly) uncomfortable idea of revealing their studio while they're in the midst of a production frenzy; or revealing a piece before it's done. What if the work is judged before you've reached your idea of its completion? What if you're judged on the state of your chaotic or overly meticulous studio? For many, working is a private and personal act, where the time spent in one's head is the same as time spent at the table/easel/printing press/dark room/computer/so on. Letting people into that space is admittedly very intimate. You'd better have a lot of either a] belief in yourself and/or b] belief and trust in whomever you've let in.
This week, I'm preparing for a studio visit with a group of peers, and this issue is even more prevalent in my thoughts. I'm in the middle of some new work I'm unsure about, it's in its fledgling stage and I don't have my usual exuberant confidence because I'm still researching the ideas/titles and slogging through the process of actually making it. And yet here I am, willing to reveal that much - is this common? I would argue it isn't. I would even argue that it's looked down on like, don't reveal that you're human and that these things take time and they're awkward and they don't go smoothly and there are all these questions about it.
Well I am [human], and my purpose here is to explain that art doesn't just come from the Divine, nor does it suddenly appear complete and resolute on a gallery wall, nor does it come cheap, free, or easy; it costs:
money, time, freedom, worry, confidence, sacrifice, friends, lovers, jobs, sanity, teeth, coffee, and in some cases, therapist bills.
I'm not just hoping to preach to the chorus - I'm hoping to express to people who may not even consider themselves "professional" (or) "artists" that there isn't really any difference in anything we're doing. Apply that to what you spend your time doing every day and you'll see what I mean; career tasks, hobbyist, weekend artist, or full time professional - we're all (hopefully) spending our lives pouring our heart into something outside of pouring our time into a day job. We just might call it something different. My point is to demonstrate that it's all legitimate, and it might even all be art.


This is part of the (for me) humor behind my playfulness with syphilis....what is it if not a sort of screwed up metaphor for the very messy and ironic mechanics of creative production, the very....demented and magical and physical spark of "genius" (that forbidden notion!) that struck so many great creative types a the climax of their lives. (Of course it's debated whether the euphoric creative dementia associated with the late stage of the disease actually altered the work these people did or would have alternately produced in different circumstances, but that's really irrelevant to me.)
ReplyDeleteAnyway, as you know, I am all for developing a more literary-influenced limb of the visual arts, and I think this practice of conversation in the midst of production is wonderful. And modern -- quite appropriate for our era...
What an interesting piece of art and I can't wait to read these new blog posts, they should be full of creativity and inspiration.
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