Two steps back, two and a half steps forward
In two days I have learned that a bit of negative feedback can act as a soul-crushing setback or it can spur you on to do better next time, and that my own frustratingly amateur workshop knowledge can do exactly the same.
On Monday I met my tutor to discuss the mid-year self-evaluation I had recently given him. It went well, with the exception of one section, in which I had expressed my scepticism about entering the art-world (although I’m sure I really have no idea about what the ‘artworld’ really is).
I doubt that such scepticism is peculiar to me; as artists we are trained to question everything, in fact, we may even be artists as a result of our inquisitive nature. It just happens that, the day I completed my form was the very worst day of a bad cold that had already rendered me house-bound for two or three days. Suffice to say, my morale was not exactly soaring. I ended up writing that the debates around my work were of no concern to me, because I was going to make the things I wanted to make, regardless of context. My tutor pointed out to me that these claims I made are not even true – his write-up says I have a ‘firm grasp’ of the context and debates surrounding my work. I would argue that my grasp was a little looser than firm, but I digress; His report pointed out that writing such statements will always come across as naïve, and perhaps even arrogant, until such a time as I have established myself as an artist who is fully grounded in theory and context. In order to critique the establishment, one must first enter into that establishment.
Almost three whole years of studying art, and I choose my final self-evaluation to have my little moment of sticking two fingers up at the institution. Silly me, I think I just about got away with it.
Today I was all set to make a huge text piece out of sheet metal – the kind that rusts. Not really knowing what does and doesn’t rust (iron aside, of course) I asked the metalwork technician for a sheet metal that would rust. I was handed a square metre of very shiny sheet metal, which I cut into my large-scale letters. Two hours later I had my text piece ready to go. In conversation I mentioned that all I had to do now was wait for it to rust, to which the technician replied, ‘Oh, that won’t rust.’
‘Huh?’
‘It’s aluminium, it might tarnish eventually, but it won’t rust.’
Great. There was a slightly too long silence, during which my body language clearly illustrated how I was feeling. He cut it short, adding ‘Oh dear…there’s a palpable sense of disappointment in the room!’
So, not only had I spent £18 on a square metre of Aluminium that was now unusable because I had chopped it up into letters specifically for a piece that would rust, but also, it was Wednesday, and our university has recently implemented the ‘Wednesday afternoon is for sports only’ rule, meaning all workshops now close at half twelve on Wednesdays. I retired to the studio for lunch, and eventually managed to crack a smile about it – I know I’ll find some use for my aluminium text, and if not, then I guess I learned to make double-sure that I fully explain all of my requirements to the technicians before I go spending money on the materials they offer up to me.
On the plus side, tomorrow’s to-do list has just written itself – I shall remake the piece with sheet steel. I hear it’s a lot less forgiving that aluminium when it comes to delicately clipping the edges off to make giant lettering, so that should be fun!
