The Good Stuff

Successful single photographs are so satisfying. I had forgotten but was reminded recently thanks to one mailer and two blogs I’ve found [Is that a grammatically correct sentence?]

The mailer was an announcement for Lee Friedlander’s show at the Fraenkel Gallery in San Francisco. Friedlander is one of my all-time faves. I love everything he does. It’s all about the visual. And I have a huge admiration for the expansive size of his oeuvre.

Then there’s Conscientious and The Year in Pictures. New stuff to look at every day. I’m enjoying it.

This is my first neon, four feet long, installed in my home until further notice.

It’s also my first wall piece, my first sculpture, really. What bothers me is that my own hands were almost entirely not involved in making it, except for preparing the template by tracing the two dimensional font I selected for a handwritten feel. This is not unusual these days, of course, but, a bit unsatisfying for me.

In terms of subject, it represents my interest in anxious attachment (that is, the insecure bond with the mother and its consequences); in language; in text; and subtext. But, blah blah. Feels good to have branched out into a new direction just because I can.

Any reactions appreciated (including about how I photographed it).

Opera to the People

There’s a guy on the downtown platform of the 6 train at 68th street who seems to spend his days singing Ave Maria over and over again. He’s Asian, probably about fifty years old, and he sounds great! His deep voice, the melancholy tone echoing off the tunnel and his forever changing and diverse audience make him a New York experience.

Today I saw about five commuters tipping him in the five minutes I was standing there. So, this one-aria repertoire is even financially viable.

Still Possible

As Kosovo declares independence, thousands have signed their name on this monumental public sculpture that reads “newborn.”

Even knowing that artists tend to see life as art – and thereby run the risk of lessening the weight, import and scope of a situation – I still think this image shows how visual symbolism can unify and represent a sprawling moment.

Looks like there are hooks on the tops of each letter. Wonder why. Anybody who finds more information about this piece, please share.

The Underdog Mentality

I have never, ever, in any situation, supported a frontrunner. To say the least, it feels strange for me to be an Obama backer right now. But, I’m going to go with it. I’m going to try to revise my underdog mindset, and leave room for the possibility of doubt about my choice, but not run to that doubt right now.

The situation makes me wonder about artist-ness. How much does being an artist depend on contrariness? How much does an artist’s happiness depend on being able to say “I am different” and even “I am uncomfortable”?

This of course suggests that artists adopt a pained posture. I’m not saying we’re affected, I’m saying that going against the grain is part of the part, even if the role feels entirely natural.

In this period where I am attempting to de-isolate, de-demoralize and de-strive - you could say de-underdog - I wonder if my urge to make will diminish.

This time, with a little less expression, please

Here’s my latest rejection via email:

“Yes I had the chance to look at the DVDs you sent me. It is quite mysterious for me, I did not get all the points I think. For now, I am not planning any show where videos could be shown.... Sorry.”

Keep in mind, English is not her mother tongue. So, my translation of her note is, “I don’t get what you’re doing and frankly, I don’t think it’s worth figuring it out. Stop writing me.” Very encouraging.

I may be reading too much into it of course. But, I think I’d rather receive a cold, “Thanks, I’ll keep you in mind.” (ie: You can write me, but, I won’t write back anymore). But, I get a lot of those too. They don’t feel much better.

Here’s my response, and it shows I can kiss ass:

“Many thanks for looking, XX. I really do appreciate your time and your feedback. Mysterious? I'd love to talk to you about this. My focus is family, and the conflicts within.

In any case, I'm happy to meet you via email and I hope to meet you in person soon. Please keep me posted on your curatorial projects.

All bests, MS”

The Independence Myth

Yesterday, in my neighborhood (Chelsea), you would have thought Hillary wasn’t going to get a single vote. I was in Obama-land, and I have to say, it felt pretty good.

Then, I realized, I’m just a demographic.

It’s funny, we think that we make measured, independent decisions, that our penchants and opinions rise from untainted reflection. But, in fact, we’re as predictable as Huckabee quoting the Bible at his address last night to supporters in Little Rock, his wife standing demurely behind him wearing beige.

All this to say that the art we admire is no surprise either. It’s demographics within a demographic. When I read Heart As Arena, I know Brent Burket is going to love Black Pussy. Personally, I feel like I’m visiting a frat party. But, imagine how he feels about Mario Merz’s neon sculpture now at Luhring Augustine, which is part of a group exhibition by Arte Povera artists. I think it’s poignant. He probably thinks its passé.

The Peacock

I think I’ve mentioned it before, I pay my bills (almost) through work as a French-to-English translator. At best, I deal with art catalogues, at worst, and more typically, badly written coffee table books about luxury resorts in the south of France, Jackie Onassis or Christofle silver flatware.

Let me be clear. I hate working.

But, the funny thing is about balancing paid work and non-paid art work is that I do in fact need the former to be able to do the latter. I’m not talking financially (that’s just obvious), I’m talking psychologically. Working (which, I repeat, I hate) makes me feel that I deserve to do other things, perhaps because I get paid. It acts as a validation.

Probably very confident artists feel their work is all they need to do. Although arrogant, this may be part of the mindset of success.

I’m not sure I want to go there.

The Road Not Taken

In light of my bleak post on Monday, I’m attempting to drudge up a list of alternative art communities (alternative to what I’m just going to call Chelsea) that might be easier to be part of. ‘Cause I’d rather actually be part of something, than try endlessly to be part of something.

In no particular order:

1. Art/Activism – This would involve concepts like video advocacy, guerilla projections, public performance. Means of distribution would range from publications like The Journal of Aesthetics and Protest, activist centers like Bluestockings, and (gulp) YouTube.

2. Artist-Curating - Putting together shows with other artists to be mounted either in a temporary space or a “remote” space.

3. Internet – Internet-based videos, interactive stuff.

4. Private Salons – temporary exhibits in homes.

Any other ideas? Feel free to chime in.

Black Monday

In terms of my career as an artist, I primarily operate on faith. I apply to this and this and that, over and over and over again, thinking that someday, something’s gotta give. I continue to make video after video and, now, neon after neon, believing that, someday, they’ll be seen by other people other than my friends and that they might even make a difference. I write email after email, make cold call after cold call, shake hand after hand, and continue to believe that it will eventually have effect.

The fact is, though, I do not have a career as an artist. It has been a one-way conversation.

My faith is evaporating. The art world has reared its ugly head at me, and my love of art is becoming its victim.

So, I ask, what is the point of continuing? I’m staying on board partly just because there’s a smidgen of dedication left; and partly because I do not know how to let go of this part of my identity. What else am I?

Paradigms

There’s a psychologically astute article in this week’s New Yorker regarding the different conceptions of presidency that Hillary and Obama have. I was drawn in by this caption: “To Clinton, the Presidency is more about achieving goals than about transforming society.”

I love that there’s an alternative to setting and reaching (or not) goals. Although it’s entirely foreign to me, I’m inspired. (Inspired being perhaps the main word uttered by Obama supporters).

The alternative vision described has more to do with being a role model, being a catalyst, than with wresting power, taking control.

I immediately think about art. How can I change my mindset, divert it from accomplishing, from being there as a comparison, and bring it to focus on the strength it has to offer on its own.

I don’t know. Is it about confidence? Is it about not needing the approval of others? If so, how do you do that?

Woe is I

I’m at the gym Friday, and I see a sign “Tai Chi for Artists.” Great, I think, only to learn upon closer inspection that the sign actually reads “Tai Chi for Arthritis.” Then, in the stretch room, I hear a guy say performance. I think, “Oh, my favorite, who?” only to realize that he is talking about stocks.

Help. I’m becoming artcentric. It feels like my world is narrowing, instead of growing wider. It’s all about my thoughts, my interests, my mind, my work. And, to what end? When do I start being of service to others? When does what I’m doing start to matter?

MollyStevensVisualArt.com

My website has new videos, new neons and a new look. Please visit.

I rebuilt the thing all by myself with Dreamweaver. This makes me feel like a genius. And, I decided that if I presented a series of videos on a similar subject (in this case, family), I, as an unknown artist trying to get known, would be easier to swallow.

Of course, feedback appreciated.

The Call of Nuance

Lawrence Weiner’s retrospective at the Whitney is a show of text-based works that are mostly meant to take shape in the viewer’s mind. For example, a wall reads “A GLACIER VANDALISED” and the possibilities are endless, although object-less. Because I’m interested in how text can be used in visual art (if it can be), and especially because Roberta Smith spoke so highly of the work, I went excited. But, when I left, I felt like a balloon deflating.

The problem, I’m certain, is that the galleries are overcrowded and anti-climactic. Both, are points that Christian Vivernos-Fauné, the Village Voice art critic, who I admire more and more, makes this week, in his essay about the weaknesses of said Weiner exhibition. But, in light of my last post, it was this point in his review that most caught my eye:

“Weiner’s aphoristic pronouncements […] today constitute a full-blown style, painted in black and white or in colorful block letters, that carries the unmistakable whiff of the narrowly casuist, the hermetically progressive, but above all the arty.” [emphasis mine]

I do know what he means: preciously deliberate.
My conclusion: Gotta be a member of the arts club to get away with using the “a word.”