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Fear in Art

Blank canvases sit waiting. Potential commission checks drift happily into the daydream of my future and then uncomfortably out again. Today, like many others in the life of self employment in the arts, is free, unencumbered with any other obligations but the chance to make art. The studio is clean, the paints sit ready. Everything in my life at this moment is primed and proper for making good art.

Yet here I sit, unable to start. Afraid of…what? This circumstance is not new to me, nor is it news to any artist that fear is a great motivator of inaction. What is it about the blank and oh so white emptiness of paper, canvas, etc. that cripples even the most steely resolve? In my world of the 2 dimensional arts my ally is the colored mud of paint, usually in watercolor form put down in microscopically thin layers… Is that something to be afraid of? A finished watercolor painting has an accumulation of a nearly immeasurable weight of paint on its’ surface. If you could accumulate all the paint of a typical watercolor painting in a small pile it wouldn’t accumulate enough to butter a piece of toast. Is it enough to ruin a day, or maybe even a week? You betcha! The poor writer, of who I am becoming acquainted through this blogging effort, who relies on the bits and bytes of their word processing software to encode their musings onto a computer hard drive actually accumulates nothing but a few electrons as they type through their day. Those minute electrons are no less capable of driving said writer as insane as the forebear’s quill and inkwell or more recent forebear’s typewriter.

What are we so afraid of?

I’ve heard life described as a spiral among other things, and as the spiral draws out from the center and grows ever larger, the same issues keep intersecting at the same points along the spiral like spokes on an ever increasing wheel. The drawback is that you intersect with an issue over and over again as your life spirals on and you are never truly free of that issue. The benefit happens that, as the spiral grows larger; those issues are intersected less and less frequently as the times between intersections lengthen as years pass. Making art is one of those life processes within which each of us will find our inherent issues of triumph and struggle. The triumphs are surprisingly forgettable as the solitary nature of art limits the joy we might feel without someone to share it with. The struggles? Oh, how isolation magnifies the feelings of insecurity, frustration, uncertainty, fear, anger and on and on. That intersection of difficult on our life-spiral is an intersection we’d much rather skip over if only life would let us! The struggles do fade from memory but they also seem to represent many more spokes on our life spiral and may, in fact represent an unfair amount of spokes!

My intersection and struggle with the blank page stems from an issue that recurs time and again. I struggle to plan things out and to take the painstaking steps of research in the form of sketching or gathering reference material that might alleviate organizing the canvas. I pine to dive into color and paint well before the canvas is even primed. Yet, you skip those first crucial steps and you lengthen your process immeasurably as you will more than likely need to backtrack and reorder things that could have been ordered more appropriately from the start. My desire might be akin to speaking before thinking. How many repairing conversations have I had with my significant other after speaking without thinking? Much more effort need be spent in that dialogue… Painting without planning can be much the same for me.

What creates that aforementioned fear is that planning and organizing things before you start means you need to dig deep into yourself from the very beginning of your art making process and, well, that’s hard! You are much more aware of the limitations of your idea when it much planned and understood from the start and what if that idea then proves unworthy?! The real fear stems from our identifying ourselves with our art and if our art should prove unworthy, then so are we! That fear might be irrational but any task you spend hours and days attending can take on a life of its own that seems in a strange way might just be our own life…

Really, art is just something we do and the best we can do today, tomorrow or next year is just that, the best we can do. It’s not something to be afraid of but something to be celebrated. Who we are is much more than our art and what we should really be afraid of is forgetting this and thinking that artist is who we are.

Posted 30 March 2009 † Jason § Day to Day ‡ Comments (4) °

The Art Thief

We had prepared for the open studio for about three weeks. Canceled was the official event in the wake of artist / organizer tensions that led to the callous cancellation. So, with a desire to thwart at least a little of the ill feelings of this economic turmoil a bunch of the artists in our building decided to make a go with a gorilla approach to an open studios with reliance on our own mailing lists and word of mouth to attract friends, visitors, and maybe clients. The weekend long event was planned, balloons were bought and our doors opened Friday night for a hopeful grand turnout.

Cold weather and colder financial news kept the crowds thin and unlike a diet it wasn’t the thin we had hoped for the three day event. By Sunday morning most of the twenty of us who opened our various studio doors were hoping for a better something; weather or sales, something to make the effort of the weekend at least worthwhile. What I found that Sunday was shocking, incredible and in a strange way made a dullish weekend at least twinkle in the most off centered of ways.

The day was slow, this Sunday, slower than either of the previous two and our studio routine of greeting guests gave way to boredom and chit chat with studio mates. Our studio space is aligned with a large interior garage door at one end and each of our four “cubicles” running parallel with each other and the door. My space is first and opens directly to the door and the other spaces have a degree of privacy from each other. At a point later in the day I found myself sitting in our third stall watching a movie on my studio-mates computer and counting the hours and minutes until the refuge of 4:00 (the end of our obligation.) A crinkling noise drifted over the walls and signaled that someone was visiting my space and looking through a small bin of unframed and mylar wrapped paintings. I debated even wandering to greet this straggling visitor.

“I gotta go be charming Dan,” I said in better spirits than I felt as I left Dan’s comfortable couch to engage what I assumed to be one more overly casual visitor.

As I turned the corner to my studio, I saw only a last glimpse of a somewhat stout leg as it glided around and away from me into the long hallway of our old woolen mill turned artist haven.

“Guess I missed her,” I muttered but felt a strange unease as only you can feel when your senses align in a perfect balance of awareness and relaxation. In a stress filled, fast paced life I am rarely afforded such feelings of certainty as I now felt and I knew almost immediately what had happened.

Whatever torso and head was attached to that stout leg had just taken something out of my studio.

I quickly counted the paintings in the rack I had set up. “27, 28…” And again “27, 28…” I was sure enough that I had 32 pieces in the rack when the weekend started and I know I sold two. With a sureness that paintings were missing but a disbelief that this woman had stolen from me (I had glimpsed enough of a body to know it was a short, stout woman who had just entered and rapidly exited my studio) I felt compelled to at least see what this woman had in her hand. As I peeked into the hall, my head reeling with confused thoughts, a clarity sparked as I saw the speck of this woman’s humanity nearly 100 yards down the hall and about to turn the corner for the staircase to the parking lot and freedom. She was practically running down the hall.

Alternating thoughts of “did that woman just steal from me?” and “that bitch just stole from me!” rushed through my head as I tore down the hall in confused anger, uncertain what had just happened but also certain about what had just happened.

Our two flights, hers’ desperate and mine shocked ended at the front entrance to our building (stout, old woman legs really have no business stealing things when freedom is too far for them to easily attain.) and I saw under her arms a familiar framed print of a fellow artist in the building and hiding in not too plain site was the small label I had affixed to the back of each of my mylar wrapped paintings. She had attempted to hide her shame tucked in the back of a legally gotten artwork but the visual evidence of my own label was too overwhelming.

Amazingly, I heard the words “excuse me, I need to see what you have there,” emanate from my own mouth as the combination of shock, adrenaline and anger gave the event at the front door a dreamlike (or maybe nightmare) quality my written words are unable to describe. The words that I spoke, however had an immediate effect as the woman froze mid stride and the tension in her body that screamed “I’m caught,” was evident.

She was caught. Red handed (or at least pink handed.)

I took the paintings quickly from her grasp and muttered a surprised “what were you thinking” as she muttered back “I’m so sorry,” a few more times than sincerity would allow.

“Sorry you got caught,” I thought later.

Would that I could replay that moment again, I don’t know what I would have done or said differently. I often wonder who was more agitated; me for catching her or she for being caught.

Having only discovered past robberies of my house or my car long after the fact (my car three times and a house once,) I was truly stunned and speechless to have caught a grandmotherly looking woman stealing art from an artist at their open studios! Who does that? I have mulled and debated what might be her reasoning for such a cowardly act and nothing but her own twisted words could satisfy my curiosity at her motivation. I will probably never know.

My thief shuffled over the icy parking lot less briskly than her previous flight but with an obvious eagerness to leave on her own terms before her would be victim had time to think of a next move.

I did manage an angry, “did you at least buy that piece from David?” in reference to the camouflaging piece of art from a fellow artist she had used to conceal her ill-gotten pieces.

Somehow I believed her reply of “yes,” and it was a haughty reply as well as if I had gall to suggest that she stole ALL her art. All I could think to do next was to amble back up to my studio and calm the rapidly pulsing adrenaline that was threatening to leave me reeling in bemused horror at the entire situation.

“I just caught a thief” I told David as I dove into my story and fumbled to explain what I could barely believe had just happened. “Please tell me you just sold a piece to an older woman,” I implored as I recounted the end of my story and the involvement of David’s allegedly legitimately gotten purchase.

“Oh sure, she paid with a check, in fact she comes to the open studio every year and buys lots of stuff. I have the check right here,” David recounted.

“You’re sure this woman who paid with a check was her?” I stammered in disbelief at my would be thief’s stupidity.

“Yea, she just barreled past us and took little notice as I said goodbye,” David relayed in his third person’s viewpoint of my thief’s flight. “It was weird.”

Not only was my thief caught, I also knew her name, address and with a little internet sleuthing I was able to find a picture and realized that she was a well off business woman who lived on the wealthier side of town. Stranger than fiction is real life and stranger still is human behavior.

My story concludes as I found a cop patrolling our parking lot a few minutes later and he basically said there was little to be done after the fact but if I sent the woman a letter warning her not to come back he would write a report in follow up (I have no confidence the cop ever wrote up the report.) I did however send the woman a certified letter (see below) and that’s as far as I’ll take it. What’s disarming is how many coincidences of people knowing my art thief have cropped up in the weeks since. I’m half waiting to hear my story told back to me second hand as the news has spread through our artist’s community.

Lesson to be learned is not to fuck with an artist and if you’re going to steal from one, don’t get caught and certainly don’t leave all your contact info at the scene of the crime!

Dear Art Thief,

I feel compelled to write you concerning the events that happened this weekend at our art sale. I am the artist who you attempted to steal from this past weekend. I again will ask, rhetorically, “What were you thinking?” I can’t imagine what compelled you to steal from someone who, in all honesty, struggles to make a living selling art and cannot afford the setback that a thief like yourself would cause. You are a thief, plain and simple.

To steal original art (what you took were not prints) seems beyond the pale and whatever sickness you are struggling with, I strongly urge you to get help before you find yourself in a position of more dire circumstances.

Unfortunately for you, I have been notified of your personal information and I have contacted the police and will be circulating this information throughout my building and to artists who hold similar events. If you return to our building, we will call the police and you will be arrested for trespassing. You are no longer welcome at our open studios.

I implore you to get help and I will take the matter no further.

Sincerely,

The artist who you attempted to rob.

Posted 02 February 2009 † Jason § Day to Day ‡ Comments (5) °

Another Year in Art!

I am going to start blogging again but in a more limited fashion than before.

Enjoy!

Posted 08 October 2008 † Jason § Day to Day ‡ Comments (8) °

How do you know when your art is done?

I ask and am asked this question a lot. There are clever and cleverer answers that run around the same solution that I have found consistently. One word comes to mind; Deadline.

Art and artists often like to think they are somehow separate from the typical world and in many ways we are. What we lose in that transfer of ourselves to some other plane is a bit of the structure that lets the rest of the world function in a reasonably smooth way. I have worked for weeks and months and as old work gets pulled out for a re-look, maybe even years on single paintings. This is not uncommon in the arts and while there is a solitary, heroic aspect in our artist mind in pouring our efforts into such an unbalanced ritual we often persevere in that dance despite its inefficiency. There is some necessity to such a strange pace of working as the ultimate goal for a work of art is a bit like a treasure hunt. It isn’t over until you find the treasure, but is all that effort to find the treasure worth it?

Art making is all about rules. Whether we follow the rules of a wider society or make our own, we are governed by something that dictates the steps of a task until completion. We like to say there are no rules but in effect, that is a rule in itself that sets up a situation of limitless freedom. I liken it to a journey analogy where you give yourself license to wander without regard to destination. Eventually, you wander so much you simply find yourself lost and you MUST choose a destination. Freedom without limits, journey without destination, and task without deadline all end up in the same place; lost. As a younger artist, being lost is a necessary and inevitable ritual. Because you haven’t acquired the experience to navigate the subtle clues of a fruitful path, you must stumble over and under and around things until you find your way. The danger is thinking that the stumbling is an efficient way to work, it may become familiar but is it efficient? Rules are meant to be changed when new information informs us that the old rules don’t work and I have often felt an almost palpable pang of guilt in finishing a painting too soon because my muscle memory screams that it needs another week or two to really be complete and meaningful. The old rule of working forever needs a reevaluation to a new rule of working shorter and more efficiently. Experience teaches us how to be more efficient but we often don’t learn.

What helps us is deadlines. Often, we have months or years spread before us until a show is scheduled to appear on the walls. That show is a deadline. A commission is a deadline. A summer off until teaching starts is a deadline. “I will finish this in a week” is a deadline. This latter, I think is the more important deadline maker because outside deadlines are self evident in their finality while our own, self imposed deadlines are more … squirrely. We don’t really have to finish it in a week but if we don’t, who loses? We have just spent time finding our way down the path and by not getting to the place we wanted to go, we risk getting lost again as night falls. All things have their life cycle, days, seasons, organisms and even art has a life cycle. It is the artist’s job to determine how long that is and to acknowledge it. Our skills, our sensibilities, our stamina all make up that life cycle and at some point, the sum total of all those factors (and more) determine what a piece of art becomes and when it is ready to be released. We do best to acknowledge when we’ve found A treasure and be satisfied with our discovery and not search fruitlessly for THE treasure.

Case in point, two years ago I worked a series of paintings to resolution for a show and they reached that point of resolution and it scraped against the limits of my skills, sensibilities and stamina (not to mention the show had to go up on the wall.) Many of the pieces struck gold from my own perspective and some didn’t. The deadline of that show kept me from overworking pieces searching elusively for some resolution I wasn’t qualified to find. I hadn’t the skills or stamina to get to that pot of gold for every single piece. Now, two years later, I have reworked a few of those pieces and have been able to bring them to the place of gold. I would have been unfortunately spinning my wheels two years ago and thank goodness for the deadline of the show that released me from a search I couldn’t muster.

What is important is to recognize is when a search has reached its limits for the time being. At some point there has to be a finality and a recognition of “this is the best I can do right now.” Setting our own deadlines helps us do that and it’s a crucial factor in making art. If you don’t have an outside deadline, make your own. Host an open studio, schedule a crit or tell yourself to do a painting a week or one a day. The length of time we each spend will be relative to our own bubble. “It’s done when it’s done” doesn’t really work for artists if they want to prosper over the long haul. You give the power to some arbitrary force outside yourself and it gives license to noodle around forever.

“It’s done when I say it’s done” takes that power back.

Posted 13 September 2008 † Jason § Purely Painting ‡ Comments (2) °

“Those that can’t do, Teach…”

I have gotten into more than a few debates over the idea of artist as teacher, mostly online and anonymous and a few in person but generally, people don’t voice out loud what rides in the back of their minds; if you teach it means you cant make a living at your art, or “those who cant do, teach.” I admit to a nagging uncertainty as I reconcile the perception and stereotype of artist/teacher with the reality as I must have been exposed to something as a younger person that planted a seed of doubt in my head and keeps the suspense of that “cant do” saying slightly alive. The perception exists, but the reality is far from true.

It’s funny that education is touted in politics as extremely vital even as it is cut in line item budgets. Teachers are trumpeted as noble as they struggle to pay the bills. That damn saying probably keeps a multitude of talented and able teachers from even considering entering the ranks. Teaching is a job like any other and it’s unfortunate that it always gets second fiddle to, well, just about everything. We don’t encourage enough young people to want to become teachers. How else do you learn something new if not from a teacher? Slogging on your own has its value but experience isn’t always the best teacher (ask me about my friend teaching me about using a table saw after I showed him how I used it…)

I teach painting and drawing at a local college here in Rhode Island and have been doing it for 10 years. I came about the job by happenstance attached to hard work and by dint of more hard work have managed to keep teaching and doing it pretty well. I care deeply about my students and do my best to give them every ounce of information that I think will be helpful and pertinent. Some days it’s a real drag and others a complete joy but I keep my level of professionalism as even as possible no matter my own mood. I work as hard at teaching as I do at art or whatever job I’ve had.

My own art career is something that would be unsustainable without doing something else to make additional money. Some artists have nine to five’s, while some work commercially with their art skills and some of us teach among the various alternate professions. I’ve met less than a handful of artists who survive financially only by the effort of making fine art. This is a difficult field to sustain over a long haul.

What simmers behind the titled saying is ignorance. Ignorance of a particular field and unwillingness to look beyond stereotypes furthers this disrespecting of teachers. Teaching is an incredibly difficult job that is compensated disproportionally to the challenge and difficulty. I am sure that each of us can look back to that one teacher who touched us (or touched our kids – those who have them) in some profound way that is immeasurable. If so, where does that saying come from? Are we afraid of teachers? Is there some innate human trait that compels us to be overly critical of a perceived weakness? Professions, such as the arts that are regarded as relatively unimportant in the wider society make an easy target. Teachers of those professions are an even easier target.

What people don’t realize is how difficult a job teaching is. I teach two days a week at my college and each day’s class is 5 hours long. Most weeks I need another full day to prepare for those classes. I honestly can’t fathom how elementary and high school teachers make their days go by as smoothly as they do. Alongside all of this is the emotional drain of navigating 20 different personalities while making sure each student maximizes their potential and learns what they need to learn. It’s a recipe for exhaustion. Proportionally, I am more drained by teaching than by any day of my former hard labor construction job.

I don’t have an answer but I do know that in the arts, the teachers and artists who teach are as dedicated a bunch as any you’ll find. We certainly don’t do it for the money! Seriously, the arts and teaching do not pay as well as you think so there must be something else that compels us to do it. Call it devotion, call it caring, call it foolishness but don’t call it as something unworthy. Remember back to that teacher that affected you in a positive way (I know there are some bad ones too, as in any field) and question what your life would be like without that influence?

Could you do without it?

Posted 04 September 2008 † Jason § Career ‡ Comments (2) °

Do Artists get stressed?

There are times when I pine for my youthful days spent working at a local deli / fish market where my tasks were organized and specific week to week, month to month. The only big change being relative to what fish was in season. In some ways, it was the happiest job I can ever recall as my coworkers were more than decent and the work was relatively interesting and enjoyable. Would I trade it for the current job I have making art? Certainly not. A more stress free existence is something I would trade for and maybe it’s more attainable than it seems but right now, life is running on stress and caffeine.

To say money has been tight during this economically challenged summer is a truism of magnificent proportion. I don’t teach during the summer so my modest but steady teaching stipend dries up for three months and I rely on savings and also potential art sales to fill in that gap. Car troubles ate up the savings before summer even started and painting sales have been absolutely non existent so the money influx has trickled to a stop. I have never had a summer act so stubbornly. I do have the backstop of a teaching job that starts in September so while things are challenging there is an end in sight. But it does cause a daily stress that accumulates like dust choking a flat surface.

A funny thing happens to artists when outside stress builds, especially the financial kind, and while I have read of it in the history books, I never believed it to be true. Art making gets EASIER in times of financial strife. Logically, it actually makes sense. If you make art that people want, then you need to continue to make that art as people expect it and that puts great stress on your process. If you make something that people don’t want because they have no income to afford it then you are freed to make whatever you want! Honestly, as the summer has gotten hotter and the stress outside my studio rose with the temperature I found myself enjoying making art more and more. I cant exactly explain it but making art has become a release of sorts that doesn’t have any external or, by choice, internal pressure on it to be anything extra special or important. (I have intentionally taken a lighter approach in my own existential thinking this summer – thank god!) In fact, the past few weeks I have combined my love of old Star Wars figures with my current love of making paintings and the resulting paintings are turning out pretty cool! I never would have tried something so completely different if I was having a “normal” summer. Hooray for a poor economy!

I guess life does find a way to seek balance and it’s our job to see how that balance occurs. I remember times when the art went poorly and life was fun and entertaining. And also times when art and life took on the same shades of gray. That art is glowing and life is dull is just the reality of the moment and surely, most assuredly, it will change again.

And I’ll be surprised at that as well….

Posted 26 August 2008 † Jason § Day to Day ‡ Comments (4) °

Contemporary Art in a Contemporary Culture

The internet is about 20 plus years old now. Total integration of that internet into our culture is about 10 years old. Blogging has been around for about 5 years as a serious undertaking. When I set up this particular blog almost a year ago, as part of my research I looked into what makes a successful blog. There were more than a few lists of “50 things every blogger should know” to promote and have a successful blog. In a way its baffling that something so new could have so many people with expert opinions of “how to do it best.” It served as a reminder of how ridiculously fast our culture changes and how we desperately strive to keep up with it. We become experts when the rest of us need them not because we have truly mastered an undertaking but because something new has created a vacuum of knowledge and someone will rush to fill it. Our society is moving along at a breakneck speed and the place that art occupies is/has changed.

The question of “what art is” has been rolling around too much in the meager space between my ears lately and especially difficult to grasp is the idea of whether art is at the forefront of culture or a small, anachronistic wagon pulled along behind. We artists like to think we are at the forefront of society, asking the tough questions, navigating the inner workings of culture and humanity with the skills of a surgeon. Are we?

There are two sides to the coin of art. One side is the artist and the questions they ask and the other side presents the answers with ideas and materials that are manipulated until they can be called art. Rarely can you see two sides of a coin at the same time so the artist and their art exist separately and the art must speak for itself. What makes the coin of art different from the other coins in the pocket of culture is the relative time artists spend polishing their respective coins (sometimes, too much polishing.) We like our art shiny so it demands that you “look” at it. Shiny and intriguing. What has been relatively constant is that the coin of art has been scattered with all the other coins of our culture, scraping and jingling together and adding up to the sum total of our society.

One hundred or so years ago, Marcel Duchamp started questioning the nature of art. The questions since then have gotten harder and harder and more and more critical. Today, an artist is almost obligated to question culture or question the nature of art and, god forbid; an artist strives to master the skills of his or her forbears… ANACHRONISM! What seems so troubling is that while our artistic ancestors of 100 years ago never wanted to take the coin of art away from the mix of the rest of the cultural pocket, it has become commonplace to create art that cares little for its audience and speaks only to the those in the “know” of the art world. The coin has been dropped. I am respectively tired of walking into galleries and seeing boring video feeds or piles of dirt that speak everything of an artist’s intellectual cleverness but nothing of their ability to communicate. Sometimes, I feel that the questions asked by contemporary artists overwhelm what their materials can do. Can a video feed be polished enough to intrigue the audience in the wake of our cultural familiarity with moving images? (see; Hollywood.) The ideas behind much contemporary art are usually incredibly precise and interesting but the execution is lacking, or, too self indulgent. When self expression turns to self indulgence, what does that become? The coin now only has one side. Artist and art led by ego…

The larger point I am struggling to circle is the question of art’s place in the world. The powers that be in the art world have seemed to effectively separate contemporary art from society. To get attention in the art world you need to be a kind of “cutting edge” that only the select few who are clued into the world of cutting edge will understand.  If you can’t communicate with society, ignore them. I understand this impulse because who wants to communicate with a culture that doesn’t care for your message or how you present it? What I don’t get is that so much of the conceptual basis for contemporary art revolves around relevant cultural issues of the day. If you make art that questions the nature of culture but wrap your message in a way that is unopenable by the very culture you criticize then what does that become?

My suggestion is that artists need to stop striving to be at the forefront of society, leading the way. Culture is moving too fast and to keep up we need to shed too much of import to keep our message relevant. Art has seemed to always hold an important place in society and what our society needs now is not more front runners, but some people to help put on the brakes.

Let’s slow this train down before it runs over our coin and flattens it.

Posted 11 August 2008 † Jason § Philosophical ‡ Comments (4) °

Public Art

My (failed) entry in the recent “Art All Around” Competition in Portland, ME

Distinguishing art as being “public” has always seemed to be a bit of a misnomer. Making art, although a fairly selfish endeavor is made with a mindset towards some sort of public consumption. That artist who claims “I only make art for myself” and is challenged to never show that art to anyone, if it is only for themselves, will be the first artist to follow through on that challenge. We want an audience for our art and it does a major disservice to our broader reputation to claim otherwise. We want people to see what we do and we also want people outside our sphere of daily influence to experience the art we make – the public. Doesn’t that make all art “public?” I‘ve also had conversations with gallery owners who cite that galleries often function as smaller and much cheaper (free) version of museums. Most of the public isn’t a buying public when they visit art galleries and I lump myself in the category of affording to look but not to buy. The larger point is that although some art is destined to live its life in a completely public sphere most art is made with some intent of becoming, at least for a little while, “public art.”

I bring this topic up because I recently applied for (and didn’t make the cut) a call for public art in Portland, Maine. The proposal was to create designs that would adorn a good number of giant fuel tanks located just outside of Portland. There was a hefty cash prize and the opportunity for your design to exist in a very large and visible way so the possibilities were very enticing. In lieu of the incredibly low percentage chance of winning one of five finalist spots I kept my own designs manageable and only spent a couple days coming up with an entry. The final tally of 560 entries that were pared down to five finalists made it a less than 1% chance of winning. There is no bitterness or surprise at my not being a finalist because it was quite literally a roll of the dice that my design was appropriate, seen by the right eyeballs and seen at the right time. Imagine you are the 557th entry that some poor juror is looking at. Do you think you will get the same hard look that say, the 3rd entry got? You never know and you do the best you can when entering art competitions of this sort.

My general criticism comes indirectly from participating in this and other competitions that demanded acknowledgment of the “public” aspect of the art involved. I think much art today that exists as “public art” has gone through a filtering process where the questions that are asked diminish what is intrinsically valuable about the art itself. There is a lot of bad public art out there. (There are a lot of other reasons for bad public art as I’ve heard the process called a game of attrition where the artists holds onto as much as he or she can while committees strip things away…)

This undoubtedly raises the difficult question of “what art is” and I think we all have our “you know it when you see it” answer for that question. For me, I think there has to be an emotional as well as intellectual aspect that leads it to the label of art. I’ve recently heard about the brains emotional response mechanisms being 300 times faster than the intellectual response mechanism which summarizes into our feeling things long before we understand them. I think great art leads you to understanding through emotions first and the intellect second. OK, that’s my own take and it’s undoubtedly different from anyone else’s. Let the debate begin.

Often, in applying to competitions you are assailed with different versions of the question “how will this benefit the public” and you face a choice of changing your intent in order to better answer that question or remaining steadfast in your vision and risk not fulfilling the competition requirements. Now, the people who fund these competitions can choose any criteria they want to justify giving their money away. My question lies in how the work that results is changing the perception of what art is. Is art only about social change and issues of the moment? Is art about giving the public what they want and expect? “Art in the short term changes nothing, in the long term, everything,” I borrow this from an artist I admire greatly and it encompasses my belief that art better serves more fundamental ideas of our human nature than themes of the moment. The great challenge is to find the balance of talking about the narrative of our day to day, a social issue for example, and tying that with a wider theme of how humans struggle and have struggled with those issues. I greatly fear seeing a bunch of lobsters and boats as the winning theme of this Maine competition. Art becomes decoration and only presents the obvious. Decoration is fine, see wallpaper, but don’t call it art. It’s all very slippery and I don’t presume to present a black and white argument of what a balanced piece of art entails. I know I see a lot of “public art” that is completely forgettable and while it takes its place in the public sphere as “art” it doesn’t begin to serve what art can be.

Art and media and popular culture have blended so much that the value of a challenging, universally minded piece of art isn’t valued as it once was. I fear we are so inundated with news and information and issues of the day that the perception of just re-presenting that information into a new format makes it art. Great art is timeless while the fickleness of public taste and public consumption is not. Issues come and go while our humanity remains constant.

A better question might be “how does this benefit humanity?”

The answers might not be so forgettable.

Posted 03 August 2008 † Jason § Day to Day ‡ Comments (7) °

Faith versus Frustration

You spend time at a favorite museum or read an inspirational book and charge into studio renewed with a sense of “I can do anything and it will matter” attitude. You spend days and weeks and maybe months on this or that project and things start to roll along with their own momentum. Things are good, you feel good and you step lively each day with anticipation of whatever discovery might await. Faith is strong and unquestioned.

Then, a car breaks down unexpectedly or that sale that seemed eminent fell through or you simply screwed up a favorite piece with a risky choice that seemed fruitful and ended up spoiling the mix. Frustration sets in and begins to slowly erode faith. Questions of what and how are being replaced by questions of why…

Frustration is inevitable. Some obstacle has imposed its will on your creative process and the uncertainty of how to get past it turns over to frustration when we linger too long on fruitless ways to overcome whatever that obstacle is. The infamous “writer’s block” (which exists for all creative practices but without such a catchy name) must be some confluence of eroded faith coupled with an overly difficult obstacle. Those obstacles come in tremendously different forms and where one artist struggles financially another might struggle conceptually and so on. The faith we have as an artist means we believe that somehow what we do has a benefit beyond our selfish impulse to create. Other artists can take the blame for kindling that faith in their peers. We experience other artist’s work and it imparts some magic and we do our best to instill similar magic to our own work. Faith helps us keep that why question at bay when we are working because we simply believe and don’t need to ask why. We can focus on what to do and how to do it. That why question is important to ask but is better asked when faith is strong because in asking it we open doors of self examination and that is difficult under any circumstance let alone when you’re frustrated. Of course, who wants to ask that kind of difficult question when things are going well, knowing the dilemma such questions might present?

The analogy I use is akin to the construction of a house. The foundation you build for your house is constructed with bigger questions in mind and with care and thought it will be strong. Once built however, you don’t start changing that foundation in the middle of a massive rainstorm because you discover a leak. You deal with the leak as best you can and when the weather clears you assess what changes might need to occur. Faith is the foundation we build our art on, frustration; a bad storm. If the foundation is continually leaking during those storms then some reevaluation and help might be needed but a small leak doesn’t mean the foundation is unsound (contractors might disagree but I hope the analogy holds water (haha.))

What do you do? You’re frustrated, things aren’t working and your ears are filling with self doubt. My own remedy, when I remember to take it, is to simplify the process and focus on fixing the leak and doing things I know will work to help me get back on track.

This summer, the dismal economy has stalled painting sales while financial burdens have also increased and I’m quite rightly frustrated and feeling overwhelmed. This has led to questions of validation and the why the hell make art questions and all those existential questions that go along with eroding faith. I’ve taken some steps to buffer the eroding financial situation and remembered past uncertainties that were also difficult and those situations worked out ok. In studio, I’ve taken a little pressure off the art by moderating my expectations and reminding myself to just make the work and ask the harder questions later in the process when my energy and focus are tighter. In short, I’ve reevaluated a little bit, plugged the leak and just kept moving forward as best I can.

Much of life, if not all of it seems to rely on faith. In the growing uncertainty of our global existence it’s understandable to have our faith shaken a little bit if not a lot. Maybe we will need a new paradigm of how we exist as the future unfolds but I’m not smart enough to even glimpse what that might be. For now, the old example of one foot in front of the other is all that makes sense. Sometimes, all you can handle is the next step and that’s surely the case for me.

Where do these steps lead? Do we really ever know?

Posted 27 July 2008 † Jason § Philosophical ‡ Comments (4) °

Gum Arabic

Recent watercolors using lots of gum arabic!

Sometimes, you need to talk a little shop and extol the virtues of the minutest detail of your working process. Today we celebrate Gum Arabic and by default, watercolor. For a little primer; I have become recently re-obsessed with watercolor after a few years away while playing nicely with acrylic and other mediums. I cut my teeth as a sophomore and junior in college learning the wily ins and outs of painting as seen through the prism of watercolor. Something in the process of accumulating layer after layer of subtly transparent color spoke directly to my inner muse and I was as certainly hooked on watercolor as I am to breathing. Using it made too much sense despite protestations of my many classmates that it was too hard. Hard it is but look at what it can do!

A few factors have loosened our symbiotic grip on each other, watercolor and I, and over the years my use of the medium has drifted to a corner of the room where dust accumulates all too readily. Framing and selling work on paper is a pain and as an artist who desperately wants to live off the meager proceeds of art sales this small hurdle has diminished watercolors effectiveness. Additionally, the notion of watercolor as a difficult medium is grounded in a certain reality and its nature is a bit unforgiving but if you treat it right it will reward you. And, like that old friend you only call once a year and whose voice on the phone suppresses any feelings of guilt or apprehension as you slip easily into each other’s conversation, watercolor has always been close to my heart.

It’s gratifying when your goals actually take shape in accomplishments and a myriad of factors have led me to reinvestigate watercolor as a material and set goals to learn more about it. I’ve started teaching a watercolor class. I recently saw the Turner show and dozens of his ridiculous performances on paper. I also need to refresh a working process that has gone a little stale and doing many pieces quickly is a way to go about it – thus watercolor. What I have wanted to avoid is this definition of insanity; doing the same thing and expecting different result. I want to use watercolor in a fresh way and do everything possible to make new discoveries.

By its very nature, watercolor hides little of the artist’s intent and ability. When you visits with a watercolor painting everything that has transpired under the artists watch is available to witness (enter gouache and all bets are off as gouache covers those “mistakes” just fine.) For the artist, that means a heightened sense of purpose must accompany each mark, each choice and each revision as the painting unfolds because what you put down early will have paternity over the finished painting. My own hand and mark making has become too familiar and my bigger goal for this recent series of watercolors is to challenge a more loose and aggressive approach with the paint while at the same time remaining precise within that looser framework – not easy. In addition I need to constantly remind myself to make different choices and to avoid my hand’s autopilot that will inevitably put down the same kind of marks it always has. If I am to avoid insanity I need to change the process in a deliberate way so that I am NOT doing the same things and I WILL see different results. Enter gum arabic.

Change is inevitable so why not embrace it and let it flow freely? Gum arabic is the binder that holds the watercolor paint together. Soluble in water it carries the paint to paper in a suspension of water, gum Arabic and pigment and when the water evaporates the gum arabic sticks the pigment to the paper and you have a mark and bunch of them make a painting. Readymade paints come from the art store with a kind of Goldilocks’ approach to the consistency of your paint – not too much gum arabic nor too little. Look closely at any of the masters of the medium and you quickly realize (ok, not so quickly, it took me 15 years to figure this out) that they didn’t settle with their paint as Goldilock’s “just right.” Watercolor is a medium of tricks and techniques more than any other and the difference is that those masters used their tricks as a means to an end where many of us get stuck using the tricks as the end itself. To expand your bag of tricks, it’s helpful to use weird materials; adding wax, adding salt or … more gum arabic!

The more I have looked at the masters (in person, especially) the more I’ve realized that they over-bound their paint. Gum arabic is the binder of watercolor and to over-bind it means to simply add more gum Arabic than the manufacturer intended. It won’t work for Goldilocks but it will for Wyeth and hopefully for me. More gum arabic does increase the difficulty of working with the layers because the permanence of how well it sticks has been greatly diminished but the flexibility has been greatly increased! The paint has a little bit more body than before so you can manipulate it more freely and while it doesn’t stick as rigidly to the paper this also means you can lift it off the paper more easily and suddenly watercolor becomes a medium of addition AND subtraction. The kinds of texture that come about are more a result of what you do with your brush, rag or finger than the happenstance of water flowing where it will. Slightly thicker paint sticks where you put it and while you don’t lose the “happy accident” quality of the paint you are forced to be a little more inventive in how you put the paint down (and take it off). In effect, you have more “control” but that simply means you have to pay closer attention because the paint won’t do as much of the work for you. Goal accomplished – do something different and something different results.

It’s amazing that the simple change of one variable has erupted into a frenzied few weeks of new paintings and surprises. Admittedly, I am bit exhausted in the unfamiliarity that at times feels as overwhelming as it is refreshing. I’ve often resisted this path of trick and technique in watercolor as a sort of magic show without substance. Painting is artifice though and the more tricks to help your illusion take shape the more compelling the show.

Posted 18 July 2008 † Jason § Purely Painting ‡ Comments (2) °