Jacqui's Art Auction

My dear friend and former coworker, Jacqui, has a father0in-law, Ignat, who lives in Bulgaria. Last July, Ignat was hit by a car. He survived but his leg was amputated and he received radical spinal surgery. Jacqui and her husband, Anatoli, have organized an art auction as a fundraiser to offset some of the medical and rehabilitation expenses.

The website is here: http://jacquianatolisartauction2010.blogspot.com/

You’ll find a nice selection of reasonably priced art pieces which were donated by friends and loved ones for this good cause.

It's just over there... but you can't see it... you can't touch it. Just trust us.

I feel good about the amount of work I'm making. Drawing, sculpting, printing- it's all a physical process. Like running, the more you do it, the better it gets. I'm creating a whole lot of work- some of which is really fantastic.

Yet I'm frustrated. In the effort to complete more and more... logging hours and hours in the studio- I don't have time to document the work, to update my website, to pound the pavement looking for opportunities to show. I know that these things need to be balanced. Just like there's a time for making work, you need to make time for 'selling' your work. I feel like there's just not enough time to do it all.

Part of this has to do with spending so much time at my non-art job. But it's my non-art job that pays my rent, makes my car payments, pays the health insurance for my son. This is what lets me sign up for classes/studio time at UMD. I love my non-art job. I just wish it were art. Not that I really want to make commercial art. Not that I have an "in" for any kind of art-related job right now. I'm wishing for some kind of artist utopia... where artist can make the kind of art they're called to do, without influence from the pressures of the marketplace, without competing needs to do something that fits into the supply-and-demand economy just to survive.

The more art that I make- the closer I feel to where I want to be as an artist.

But I'm in this situation as a post-bac, sometimes grad-student, sometimes taking undergrad courses, where I hear there are all these fantastic things being done by these fantastically "busy" grad students (when people here say "busy" they mean "too important to meet you"). I'm incredibly busy too- but logginging all this time in the studio mostly interacting with undergrads. Some are really motivated and fantastic- but I still crave more interaction with more folks who are working at a super-high level. Back when I was an undergrad, I wouldn't have been satisfied with this situation. There's a reason I went to an "art school" rather than majoring in art in a non-arts school.

So while I log all this studio time, I'm missing out on spending time with my non-umd artist friends who are also busy doing super fantastic things that are really interesting... friends who are willing to spend time with me- in relationships that are mutually supportive and stimulating.

This isolation is bumming me out. Sure, artmaking, in some ways, is a solo process- yet artists still find ways to interact. Artists form studios, organize group shows, attend openings together. Universities are normally a great place for this too. But in this particular hierarchical community, I'm not in the the correct category to interact with other "busy" people. I hate that right now, I'm pushing myself to log all these studio hours, but I'm missing out on any kind of community. This community which would help motivate me to come to the studio, would give me new perspectives, would allow for stimulating conversations, that kind of informal give-and-take is really necessary in art. Without that, I might as well go back to my basement apartment and scribble away in my journals some more.

I find something great in the sculpture studios. There IS a community there. Grad students and undergrads and faculty are constantly coming through. People make time to share ideas, talk about each person's work. There's a very positive dynamic in this group space. But it also makes me realize what's missing everywhere else. I could shift focus to sculpture- just because I like the community. It's where I'm heading these days, and this is the reason. But it feels a little bit like a sucky trade-off... because I'm really not a sculpture person. I'm really a painter.

I don't know how to make this better. If I were more integrated in the UMD grad program, would that help? If I were a full time grad student myself, I could spend all my time just doing art, but I don't think I could I still afford rent. Having a roof over your head is kind of important. I know that people find ways to make this work. I just can't figure out how to do it myself. I wouldn't hesitate to borrow to pay for school... but I've already done that so it's no longer an option.

In the meantime I'm just working working working... but craving more. Sometimes I see a glimmer of hope that things will move forward... but then reality closes in and I watch that vision recede. Another year goes by. And another. If there were some kind of leap I could take to make this different, I'd do it. Just not sure what I'm supposed to do. In the meantime I endure, and I bitch about things that suck, and I celebrate things that are really pretty fantastic.

Today I'm supposed to spend some hours in the print studio. Dale's home for a few hours- he'll come back tonight. I'd like to tell him that these hours without him were productive. But before I get dressed and drive to campus- in the quiet time alone- I want to write about "subject"- because I've been thinking about this for weeks (ok, months even years), but have been having trouble getting it down.

I'm not really turned-on by most non-representational art. I think abstract expressionism was cool and wild and groundbreaking in its time, but that was a long time ago. That's not my time. Non-representational art is not the challenge it used to be. Most educated people are familiar with the background of art in the last century. These days, non-representational art is easy. It doesn't ask tough questions because it's not about anything real. It poses no challenge to the viewer. It has become decoration- it's simple of the potential buyer asking if it coordinates with one's home decorating scheme.

I prefer art that has meaning. I prefer art that has recognizable subject matter. I like art that is personal or political. This doesn't mean that I'm not interested in aesthetics, but focusing on the materials, color and form to the point of excluding subjectmatter all together is like throwing out the baby with the bathwater. As an artist, I'm keeping the baby.

"Baby" is a loaded subject. Like a gun or a skull or a face or a naked woman- it's something that catches our attention on a primal level. We fear and desire the power associated with a gun. We recognize the skull as a face- but it also brings up associations with mortality or criminality. The naked woman brings up feelings of desire, and beauty. Even that has a political context: as the Guerrilla Girls point out in their poster, "Do Women Have to be Naked to get into the Met", less than 5% of the artists in the modern art section are women, but 85% of the nudes are female. While photography and pornography fill a viewer's desire to see the nude human body in a stimulating way- it remains a popular and accepted subject in art.

When we see "baby" what associations do we hold? On a basic level, we're attracted to babies. Nature has hardwired most of us to protect the small and vulnerable of our species. If I'm working on a piece- with doll face on an anatomical model, or as a doll that's only half-formed, people have a strong negative reaction. People want babies to be perfect, protected and whole.

Is the "baby" a legitimate subject for art? As a female artist, is "making babies" too cliche? Artists aren't valued very highly by our capitalist society- neither are women, and neither are mothers. They just don't fit very nicely into the network of supply-and-demand. In that respect, making art about babies is a radical political choice.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about the ways in which I represent the "baby" and what kind of latent content could be contributing to my choices- but I don't think it would be easy to come up with a clear explanation of that without rehashing my entire life story.

So yes, "baby" is a loaded subject which is both personal and universal. I've received the criticism from two respected mentors that "baby" has become a "device" in my art. This was presented me in a negative way- as if I were using it as a crutch. From what I understand this criticism, it comes from the idea that choosing to represent something with so many cultural associations is somehow "cheating" in art: resting on a subject that's guaranteed to pull the viewer's attention. I just don't understand how any subject in art is "cheating"--- I don't think anyone can really "cheat" at art. Or if you can, so many people have done it, and done it well, that there's enough precedence to justify just about anything in art. If I'm not doing it well- that's the fault of my technique. In that case, I welcome feedback on THAT rather than my choice of subject.

If artists avoided 'loaded' subject matter, we'd have no art about war, no art about love, no art about death or life. That's like the argument that art should be about nothing at all. I've already explained my view about that. The idea that art should be "about something" isn't radical or new, or something that I'm alone in holding.

Of course art isn't only about the "subject" - a greater part of it involves aesthetics, technique and craft. Right now I'm coming from a background in drawing and painting and moving into new fields of screenprinting and metal casting. I'm spending a lot of my time developing my technique in these new mediums. Having found a "subject" to rest on- "babies" allows me to explore new skills and techniques.

I'm learning that it's easier to control the printing in small prints than larger ones. I'm learning the optimal mix of transparancy base to printing ink. I'm experimenting with different kinds of photo emulsion and drying times. I'm learning new ways to sculpt wax to bring a desired finish in my metal casts. I'm learning to make molds that won't fall apart when we pour the iron. I'm making mistakes, and wasting time and money, and learning through trial and error. This is frustrating, in part, because I'm feeling like at this point in my life, at 35-years old, with a full time non-art job, that my time might be better spent heightening my more highly developed skills in drawing and painting. On the other hand, I think that the development of new skills could open up more opportunities, and expanding my skills as an artist isn't the worst thing to do.

All the while, I'm also thinking about my subject and its development. "Babies" can be presented in a variety of ways. They can be multiples or singletons. They can be clothed or naked. They can be robots or cadavers. They can have different skin tones, and come in all sizes. People will have opinions about that- because, as I said earlier- this is a loaded subject.

The Local Artist

I went to the Aluminum Pour at UMCP last night. Students came from Steve Jones’ class, and some other artists as well. Steve introduced me to one of the students as an “Advanced Student”- which seems to mean something to people. I find the hierarchy in this art program disconcerting. Why do Advanced Students, Honors Students, Graduate Students need to be distinguished somehow from the regular schlubs? I’m an “Advanced Special Student” (notice the acronym: ASS) which means I have a bachelors degree, and I’ve applied for graduate level studies in the art department, but my coursework is unlikely to count towards an advanced degree. Most people, even many of the faculty, don’t know what that is- so I don’t usually bother to explain it. Besides, from what I’m told, there’s no way to work on metal casting with Steve on a “graduate” level because of his status of an adjunct professor… so I signed up for the “Advanced” undergraduate course. The course number isn't that important to me. What counts is that I have access to fantastic facilities, and can work on my metal casting project under the supervision of a really interesting and encouraging artist.

So last night, as I hurriedly cut some foam sprues for my loss-foam pieces, another artist came in. She was quite a bit older than me. She had carried in a number of foam pieces, and we shared the glue gun and utility knife. She asked me, “is this your first sculpture class?”

Should I have been offended? I chose not to be- I probably had a "deer in the headlights" look- because the hubub and heat was freaking me out, and at least she was willing to start a conversation. I explained that I already had an art degree (I hope it’s safe to assume that most art programs include at least one sculpture class), but that I worked at UMD and took courses to use the facilities here. I may have mentioned that I took a metal casting course last summer. I asked her some questions about herself. She described herself as a “local artist”- which I found strange, and inspired me to write this post. She’s the second person I've talked to in the last few months who has chosen to self-identify with that term.

In my last blogpost I talked about the term, “emerging artist” and the kind of assumptions that come with that description. Why is it so hard to describe ourselves? After speaking with that woman last night, I’ve found myself thinking about the meaning of the term, “local artist.” We’re all local to somewhere- unless we’re nomadic, I guess. But why use the term “local artist?” Why not simply say, “I’m an artist. I live in Beltsville (or Takoma Park or Laurel or Anacostia or wherever…).

When I moved to the DC area from NY, I found the art scene sorely lacking. Compared to the downtown NY galleries, the work displayed in high-end galleries near Dupont seems dull and uninspiring. For years, I avoided DC galleries altogether- concluding that the reason DC arts were so uninteresting compared to NY, was that nobody moves to DC to be an artist. Aside from museum workers, artists in DC just happen to live here (much like myself) for reasons other-than the arts. I kept to myself, drawing in my journal, painting when I had the time, making internet friends from far away, and focusing my local efforts on the Maryland and DC music scene- which I found delightedly fresh, vibrant and accessible. After some really fun years of coordinating music shows I started to feel tired of devoting so much time and effort showcasing other people’s talent- and I realized that unless I placed art at the top of my priorities, I would never develop as an artist. Nobody else was going to put my art at the forefront.

I also started dating an artist. Dale works at the Smithsonian and introduced me to his artist and museum worker friends. Dale and I visit gallery openings together, we spend weekends working on our own art, through him I’ve become associated with a community of artists that I never knew existed here in DC.

While DC is no Soho or Greenpoint, there are certain things about DC arts that I have come to value above anything I’ve ever known in New York. On the whole, I find people in DC more accessible than folks in New York. When I used to go to lower Manhattan, or even certain places in Brooklyn, I was intimidated by the “cool” folks. This Long Island girl could never dress cool enough- and I’m not the kind of person to affect the requisite attitude. In DC, people just aren’t very cool- some people are assholes- but on the whole folks are a lot more friendly and open, and a whole lot less scary.

Another thing that I find wonderful about DC is that most museums offer free admission. In New York, I would take a day off from work, ride the subway and a bus for an hour from my apartment in Carol Gardens to the upper east side of Manhattan, only to scrape together my last few dollars for museum admission- without enough left over for an extra subway ride or pay phone call. When I was a child, my parents and I would sometimes take the Long Island Rail Road into New York to visit the Metropolitan Museum or the Museum of Natural History or the Frick for the day. Once we’d made such an effort to get there, and paid the high admission fees, we were pressured to spend hours and hours in the museum, soaking up every last drop of high art or history. While this was probably good for me, I found it grueling. I prefer living near DC, where I can take a short metro ride or drive in to see a museum, walk in and see what interests me, spending an hour or two at most, then go home without the pressure- knowing I can return at any time.

I think the most fantastic thing about DC has to do with people as organizers. Maybe because this is the political capitol of the nation, or maybe because rent is fairly cheap (compared to NY or Boston anyway) but DC has a wealth of artists who know how to organize. Artomatic is a prime example: organized by and for DC artists, folks come together to rent unused buildings and create an enormous gallery where hundreds of artists display their work. The first time I heard about Artomatic was shortly after I moved here. I wasn’t interested because this was uncurated- why bother? Isn’t most of the art likely to be crap? I’ve learned a lot since then, and I’ve changed my thinking about what it means for something to be “curated” or something to be “art.” My favorite thing about Artomatic now, is precisely that it is open to anyone willing to put in the time and effort to display their work. Visiting artomatic is like spending an hour hunting for treasures in a warehouse flea market. This is where you’ll find a full range of art made by schooled and self-taught artists, those with gallery representation and those who are showing their art to an audience for the very first time. The emergence of “outsider art” has caused even “insiders” to reassess what it means to be an artist. Artomatic isn’t the only instance where this happens in DC, but it’s a super example of grassroots organizing making a vibrant art experience.

As I’ve come to recognize the important contributions of self taught artists, I’m still proud of my art education. I worked hard to earn a scholarship to art school, and the program at SUNY Purchase was really good. I spent four years immersed in a world of drawing and painting and thinking critically about art. The only thing my art degree lacked was name recognition. With a BFA in painting and drawing from a State University, I was absolutely unprepared for life as a financially solvent artist. My art education never promised this, but after accruing tens of thousands of dollars in student loans, I had to turn to other occupations to pay my bills. I find it ironic that UMD folks dismiss my art degree, “SUNY What? Never heard of it”… when the program at Purchase was so much more competitive and rigorous than anything I’ve seen at UMCP. And it’s not like UMCP has much name recognition outside of the DC area- so I find this dismissive attitude really strange. Other than the Corcoran, there’s a lack of art schools in the DC area. There are art programs within other schools, but when cost is a consideration, there are few choices, which makes UMCP’s art program really important- but I find, outside of cost considerations and some great facilities, UMCP isn’t “all that” and doesn’t justify some of the haughty attitudes I’ve seen. I’ve come to know a good number of serious, talented and dedicated artists who have never completed a serious art education program. For me, studying art was, and continues to be really important but I don't think that having (or borrowing) $60,000 or more for an art degree should determine whether one should have any more status as an artist. It's what you do with what you've got that really matters.

So am I a “local artist?” I'm certainly not an "internationally acclaimed artist" and I’ve lived in Takoma Park for ten years. Is that long enough to make me “local?” Or do I need some degree of recognition first? When people think of artists in DC, how many think of me? Probably not very many. I can’t afford to rent an art studio at Arise or any of the other artist groups that many people consider some kind of criteria for being a “serious artist” , nor can I afford the costly monthly or annual memberships in many of the “community galleries” that offer art shows to local artists. I approached one community gallery with an idea for an all-female group art exhibit, explaining that I was tired of being known as so-and-so's girlfriend... and the response I received was, “we don’t do political shows” (the same gallery had a show about the gulf oil spill not long after that). Maybe he didn’t like my art? I’m pretty sure he had made up his mind long before he had seen very much of my art. I’m pretty sure he just didn’t like me, my feminism or my attitude.

This is a problem for me: I can't help but to critically analyze the assumptions we make. Artists are, for the most part, visual thinkers, so maybe it's not fair to get too heavily into semantics. And when I speak my mind about things I disagree with, I end up offending people which really doesn’t do me any favors. I find it really hard to promote myself. I don’t have an enthusiastic elevator speech to convince strangers that they will absolutely love my art and must purchase it so they can hang it up in their homes and gaze lovingly at it every day. I’d rather let my art speak for itself... and making art as home decoration or commodity is not even close to my motivation as an artist. But most people find it easier to understand English than Art, and when it comes down to it- selling art is important. Determining whether art is “quality” is really subjective. Is art good because it looks like something in life? Or is it good because it looks like something you’ve seen in a gallery or museum or magazine? Is it good because it matches your drapes? Or is it good because it looks like nothing you’ve ever seen in your life? Often our opinions about art are, in a large part, influenced by our personal feelings about the artist and the opinions of people we respect. We attend the art openings of our friends or artist we’ve come to know through art history classes or read about in art reviews. Criticizing the art cultural norms in DC or UMCP or criticizing other artists who are working hard and doing good work is probably unlikely to win me many friends or critical acclaim. Maybe I just feel frustrated- because after years of hard work on my own art, and years of attending gallery shows of other artists in my community- few people show much interest in what I’m making. It's not like nobody cares- I have some really good friends who are artists- but I haven't had a show since the last Artomatic. I still haven’t found my niche.

Introduction- the emerging artist

I'm starting this blog to chronicle my art making; my progress towards what? I'm not sure. I have particular goals in mind- landmarks and milestones. These things that can be defined in concrete terms: showing work, selling work, new images posted to my artist's website, new technical skills. But I also have more ephemeral aims- developing a depth in my work, a clarity of my message, a body of work that expresses my own journey as an artist and a person.  My aim is to make art every day and incorporate it into my life. Art is already central to my life- but I want to make more art- better art- get it out there- get it noticed.

People talk a lot about "emerging artists." That term is used most commonly to describe unrepresented artists, unnoticed artists, artists with potential- artists who are in their studios, their living rooms, making work that's ready to be noticed like a gem in a mine, like a treasure in a junk shop. In other ways- "emerging" visual artists are kin to "indy" musicians- unrepresented and outside of the mainstream. While "indy" musicians can assert their independence from the mainstream music world,  the verb "emerge" implies potential for further direction. Emerging artists are wannabes. Like little green sprouts- the emerging artists stretch their baby leaves and reach up towards the warm nurturing sunshine of the art world. Like a baby bird pecking it's way out of an egg- the emerging artist comes out into the world, rising from obscurity, evolving. This label assumes a lot. It implies that the artist is young. it assumes that there's actually some sunshine out there- some inevitable "discovery"- that "success" is only just around the corner. It's a term rich with potential energy. I'm not convinced that the art world- the part that has galleries, fellowships, fame and recognition to bestow- is quite as warm and nurturing as the sunshine, the air and water.

I have a friend on facebook, Muffy Bolding. She posted last night, "A genius is someone who shoots at something that no one else can see...and fucking hits it."

Is an emerging artist shooting for that invisible thing? What am I doing with all the hours I spend in my living room studio- target practice? What if the artist is not a genius? Our world has room for "average" lawyers, "average" accountants, plenty of merely passable administrative assistants- but there's not a lot of room in the (fine) art world for mediocricy. But the success in the art world isn't entirely based on meritocracy either.

Maybe I'm not a genius. Maybe I'll never see that invisible target. Or maybe I AM a genius (my mother tells me I am) and I just need to invent my own target and convince everyone else that I've hit the bull's eye. Maybe I already have, maybe I'm hitting it all the frickin' time, but nobody notices or cares.