When that MBA comes in handy

Vito Polly-Vincent had these wise words to say regarding how to talk about work:

How about if you break your work down into sub-groupings, kind of like conceptual portfolios, so you can say, for example, "in this body I… xyz..." "In that body of work I...xyz..." This way you don't pigeonhole your work and place limits on what you can do. And then for marketing purposes, you create your own concise spiel - "talking points" - the purpose of which would be to unify the varying strands of your work as a whole.

Great advice for any artist. Truly.

The problem lies in what he refers to as “talking points.”

How do these sound for my own work:
1. I make video installations
2. Draw on several visual tools, including home movies, and staged societal interactions and text.
3. Explore estrangement and intimacy on a family level, repression and emancipation on a societal level.

Back to square one. This still sounds very varied and confusing to me.

All this reminds me of two things:

1. I’m an artist not a businesswoman, and never the twain shall meet.
2. All artists need a rep.

Summing it up

At the end of my studio visit a few weeks ago, I was asked if I would describe my work as language based. I replied, that some of it was. This seemed to pose a problem. A problem of ambiguity.

Can dealers and curators digest a diverse body of work produced by a single artist? Or is it better for an artist to develop and present a series that touches on a single theme and draws on similar visual tools? Please, please, tell me.

If an artist does in fact need to be able to summarize her work (for marketing purposes, I imagine), I’m at a lost. Up until now, I’ve thought it best to either focus on the description of one project (“In my most recent video, I performed domestic tasks in blackface”), or to use very general terms that essentially don’t provide a clear picture at all (“I’m interested in presenting both estrangement and intimacy.”) But, I’m uncertain, which is best. Perhaps a combination of both.

And, today, I'm convinced that if I only new how to proceed, success would be knocking at my door.

Affirmations

I had this brief conversation yesterday on Ed Winkleman’s blog. I appreciate the un-flowery-ness.

I said:
We art folk do take ourselves so seriously. What makes us think we're actually so special, that what we do is so meaningful? (I am the first to be guilty of this)


He said:
Feeling special, and the gift to others that they may feel special, is special and so meaningful.


I said:
But, most of the time, isn't feeling special in fact delusion, arrogance, self-importance?


He said:
There is a difference between 'feeling special,
There is a difference between 'feeling special' and acting with arrogance or self-importance. If you are in a relationship with another person who makes you "feel special’ you feel elevated, in the euphoric sense, a feeling that your existence is important in the world. It is.
Arrogance or self-importance, act to direct ones sense of ‘feeling special’ with the intent of separating oneself from others by placing oneself above others. This behavior in essence reveals that the arrogant or self-important person does not feel they are special.
I think that in moments when we ‘feel special’ we can make others feel the same way by induction.
The activity of the artist is directed outward, we create something. This is a different activity than doing a job to someone else’s specifications.
Creation is the act of making something from nothing. The fact that there often is no creative roadmap means the artist must act with the belief and conviction that what they are trying to do will succeed. We also know that most of the time we do not, or only achieve partial success. The ability to face this uncertainty requires a degree of belief in oneself, if only for the moment we must feel we are special.

Old-School Existential Angst

(Monsieur Albert Camus)


Studio visits are so anti-climactic.

I always want jaws to drop. I want a contract to be drawn up right away. I want a commitment to a solo show. Next month.

But, really the only thing you can hope for is that they don’t yawn. I only had one woman look bored. I suppose out of the less than ten visits I’ve actually had, that’s not so bad.

In actuality, a studio visit is just the beginning of a relationship. And supposedly, these are good to have.

I’m starting to imagine that every stage of “advancement” in the art world will actually be somewhat disappointing. All this goes to prove is that, really, I’m doing this because I like making the stuff. But, while I’m taking my break, I’m having a hard time remembering that I do. Does this mean I have to face the facts that I’m not passionate enough to continue on. This is my greatest fear.

I’d like to feel excited and impatient to get back into the studio. But, so far, I haven’t felt either.

Without art, about 90% of my self-identity falls away. That’s too much for me to face.

The eternal question remains: who am I and for how long?

The Discomfort Zone

Apparently, malaise, death and alienation are old-school. In his appreciation of Ingmar Bergman yesterday, Stephen Holden, writes:

“Today the religion of high art that dominated the 1950s and 60s seems increasingly quaint and provincial. The longstanding belief that humans are born with singular psyches and souls is being superseded by an emerging new ideal: the human as technologically perfectible machine. The culture of the soul – of Freud and Marx, and yes, Bergman – has been overtaken by the culture of the body. Biotechnology leads the shaky way into the future, and pseudo-immortality, through cloning, is in sight. Who needs the soul if the self is technologically mutable? For that matter, who needs art?”

Now, that’s depressing.

I hate the idea that soul-searching is a modernist endeavor, a romantic ideal. But, that’s the current consensus. Explorations of the self are usually now labeled “earnest” or “naïve.”

The closest thing I’ve seen recently that takes a stab at irresolvable-ness, is the HBO series “Six Feet Under,” which spins around the inevitability of death. But, I don’t feel particularly pushed forward watching the episodes. There’s something about, say, Monica Vitti, or abstract montages that just make me feel more “weighty” as a viewer. But, this might simply be pretentious.

I just prefer devastation to comfort in art. When I read (re: Bergman), “this world is a place where faith is tenuous; communication, elusive; and self-knowledge, illusory at best,” I just want rip open my netflix and curl up on the couch.

The Validity of the Inner Child

Children are simply not discussed in art circles. Partners, lovers, husbands and wives, yes, but kids, no. It’s just not a hip subject.

I confess that I’ve bought into this prejudice, and tend to keep my family and my art circles separate. So, for me, I’m going out on a limb for this post (or series of posts).

I have a stepdaughter who lives with us during her vacations; in the summer, six weeks. While I find it virtually impossible to work on my own work while she’s here, she and I have undertaken (or plan to undertake) a few art activities that I’m sure some artist could capitalize on if exaggerated.

1. Drawing without looking at your paper; especially portraits.
2. Massive still lifes that combine the usual flowers and vases, but also cell phones and remote controls.
3. Putting Queen Ann’s Lace in a vase of water with food dye.
4. Making “screen prints” from layers of cardboard cut out into body parts and symbols.

I tend not to like craft-based art. But, I’ve noticed that these activities are loosening me up a bit. We’ll see about the impact when I return to the studio.

Road Rage

I have no thoughts about art for this post. Just a report on my break: I read almost an entire review today. Therefore, I have hope that the tank is slowly refueling.

I did have this unrelated thought while driving and seeing the ubiquitous “God Bless America” bumper sticker. Each word in that phrase is basically a concept, and therefore has no concrete meaning. And yet, we know exactly what is meant by it. But, can that dominant meaning be subverted?

The Career of Magical Thinking

Believe it or not, I’m actually being considered for the Whitney Biennial.

It started with a studio visit with a curator at the Whitney who I have known for a while. Although she in not involved in this year’s exhibition, I asked her how I might be considered. She told me about her experience curating it some ten years back, how her office filled with proposals overnight and how the whole exhibition is basically a political mess. Nevertheless, she gave me the name of a consulting curator based outside NY for the 2008 show. Miraculously, he picked up the phone when I found the courage – from god knows where – to call him. He accepted to receive a package.

After a month of light nagging, he wrote an email informing me that he forwarded my work to the other curators (back in NY). Then I worked my way through the labyrinth at the museum and got hold of an assistant. She told me I was on their radar and would be reviewed.

This high lasted a week.

Then I wrote the consulting curator outside of NY to thank him again, and to basically remind him that I exist.

Today, I called the assistant again and asked whether the film and media review had been completed. She just responded, clearly exhausted and overwhelmed, that the process was still in progress, and that I would be contacted if there were questions.

No high today.

Sounds like I’m one of thousands. The chances that I’m put into the film and media program are almost nil. But, I still have a grain of hope.

At this point, I truly feel there’s nothing left to do.

Unless, there is. All suggestions welcome, including mantras, candle-lighting and downright begging.

What I did over summer vacation

That’s it. I’m at the end of my rope.

I cannot absorb not one more review in ArtForum, The New York Times, The New Yorker, TimeOut, The Village Voice, Tema Celeste, Modern Painters, Flash Art, or any other publication.

I cannot prepare not one more application to an open call, to a residency, to a career-enhancement program.

I have no energy left to sit down at my computer to create not one more text-based video, to take out my camera, to pull out my notebook as my thinking pad, to simply lie on my back and let the work come.

I am officially taking a break.

The problem is, I don’t have the faith that breaks are finite. I don’t really believe that “real artists” take them. And, despite Rilke’s moving assertion that ideas must gestate, that the mind must lay fallow, if you will, I don’t trust it.

So, in this break, I’m taking a leap of faith. But, most of the time it just feels plain depressing.

I will continue with blog entries twice a week.

Updated Website

I've updated my website a bit, adding two excerpts from recent work, a new statement and a current cv.

www.MollyStevensVisualArt.com

Feedback appreciated.

Radical Stamina

I may be one of the few emerging artists who likes New York Times critic Michael Kimmelman. His apparent scathing disdain for contemporary art seems conservative to most. But, I usually think he’s accurate.

In his recent review of the Venice Biennale, he had this to say about the new work by YBA artist Tracy Emin, of soiled bed fame.

“…they left an impression that Ms. Emin has her sights on the art market while also suggesting that even the cheekiest British artists are really reactionaries at heart.”

In this same vein, Alex Ross ends his New Yorker portrait of Sibelius this week quoting composer Morton Feldman: “The people who you think are radicals might really be conservatives. The people who you think are conservative might really be radical.”

This reminded me how, often, the subversive spirit is just trend, and therefore pretty empty. Effective counter-culture is often so simple, it could go unnoticed. Flare is foregone for carefully meditated and radical pognancy. Many of Marina Abramovic’s performances are prime examples, in my mind. And this pared down pointed-ness is what I aim for in my own work.

Roberta Smith sums up the idea in her review of Rudolf Stingel at the Whitney:

“Art takes a lot of thought and deliberation, no matter how simple it may seem; and indolence has its rewards. The implication is that artists in particular should do as little as possible. The sign of a successful artwork is its ability to derive the greatest effect from the least means. Another lesson to be extracted from this elegant show is the oxymoronic nature of the notion of ‘empty beauty’ that has been bruited about extensively in the last decade. This show suggests that if art is empty, it is not beautiful and vice versa. If something is beautiful in any sustained way, it contains, at the least, an idea about beauty and usually much more. It is the result of something being worked on and worked out. Beauty is the state of operating at stunning efficiency, a triumph that can’t be empty.”

Art for Art's Sake

Anyone who is developing a form of self-expression (and anyone who reads this blog), is probably familiar with the fact that the art path is a winding one. There’s rejection, disappointment, self-doubt, but also discovery, growth and sometimes deep satisfaction.

Recently, my road has been a bit more rocky than smooth, which has prompted some of those dearest to me to encourage me to focus more on the pleasure of making than the pressure of exhibiting.

I’m not sure this is possible for me.

Because part of me is convinced that art (in any of its forms) is a public act. Art will atrophy if it is not seen, heard or read by an audience. Art is about contributing to and extracting meaning from how we live as a society and as individuals. But in order for art to do what it can do, it has to exist out there.

But maybe it is possible.

Because another part of me is suspicious that I make because I crave to be recognized, seen, heard. Perhaps I am motivated by a desire to fill a psychological deficiency. Perhaps if I just finally accept that the Mother will never say “Beautiful Job!” I’ll be set free and be a better artist.

Anyone getting the impression that I’m starting to repeat myself in these posts? Next time, I'm changing the subject.

The Sophisticated Sunday Painter

There are a few channels in the New York art world that support emerging artists, offering us group exhibitions, solo shows, career advice, residencies and sometimes moolah. Candidates are usually considered through open calls. I have been applying to these things for a few years now. I had one success, a show at Living Arts of Tulsa, which was a great experience. This is positive, I realize, but, I’m overwhelmed by the mass amount of rejections. Seems like I never get anything.

And it seems like some of my colleagues always do.

My concern today is: Am I naïve to think that an artist doesn’t necessarily have to go through these channels to become recognized? I’d like to think that cutting corners is possible. This is how I’ve mostly functioned anyway through life. (For example, I didn’t study art at all in college, but ended up getting my masters). But, is this just wishful thinking at this point?

And more importantly, when am I just a dilettante? Or worse, simply someone who hasn’t yet understood this isn’t going anywhere?

Seriously Funny

Ever notice how really good serious art has humor? Gordon Matta-Clark is a prime example. You’ll be watching a video of him cutting through the layers of a building, thinking about all the implications of doing so, admiring the formal quality of it. Then all of a sudden, you’ll find yourself laughing; not only because of the oddity, but because of the attempt (and success) of going beyond what is deemed possible; or because the act or image is so simple, it’s obvious and true.

I’m not sure if an artist can go into a piece with the intention of making it funny. I think humor might be a result, not a motive. But, I’d love examples in which it isn’t.

Now, with good comedians, it’s the opposite. They go in with the intention of humor, and what emerges, when it’s really good, is gloomy truth. Richard Pryor.

Now, of course, I'm not talking irony. Irony is anti-art, in my mind. And, while irony in general seems to be waning on the cultural level, it’s still out there, and as dangerous as ever. In this category, I lump: “boy art” (white guys who literally recreate messy rooms in galleries because they can. I ask, who’s gonna clean that shit up?); most burlesque (women acting out sexual fantasies); and political sarcasm.