Everything has gone a bit topsy-turvy over the last few days, with the news that our landlord is selling our flat & would like us to move out as quickly as we can. In amidst the endless, depressing round of viewing houses that are not-quite-right and trying to plan some trips to other cities (S. is finally following his heart & going back to uni to study film-making), I’ve had time to scrawl a few notes, but nothing more. I’ve finally found half an hour to sit down and flesh them out a bit. Apologies for the poorly-written, bitty, conversational tone!
Emily Speed picked up on my use of the word ‘homogenic’ in relation to the arts. She rightly pointed out that the word ‘art’ now encompasses many vastly different ways of working. This is true, and is something I welcome – particularly since only through this broadening of definition and of scope do I get to call myself an artist. The homogenisation to which I referred is a homogenisation not of work, but of approach; the approach to making work, and the approach to being an artist in the first place.
I often wonder if I am the only one who finds the whole process utterly exhausting. The unspoken doctrine goes something like this: an artist must be public; and half yourself must be given over to others. Research, compare, see art all the time; fill your head with the work of others: an insular system of call and response, bounce and rebound. I find it difficult to maintain this and still make work that is true (in the same way, when I am writing, I cannot read too much). My inner “voice” is a distinct but quiet and fragile creature, easily influenced & overwhelmed by other voices, other ways of doing.
I find a lot of the work that I see by young/emerging artists exhausting, too. It might sound odd for a person whose entire practice is rooted in philosophy, in ideas, in the intangible, to be saying this, but I see so much work that is conceptualised to breaking-point; that is overthought. A conceptual background that outweighs the visual outcome; pieces of work backed up by lengthy catalogue texts that become required reading. “Interesting” work, as opposed to work that takes my breath away. Many of these artists are vastly more successful and respected than I am, and rightly so, for they certainly try harder, and certainly “play the game” better than I do. For I am coming to understand that I (and, therefore, my work) thrive on solitude, quietness and intense, first-hand experience; the private self and the inner life rather than public demonstration. Of course, there are other artists who work in this way too, but in Liverpool, where I currently live and work, I appear to be in a minority of one, in amidst the noise and clutter and slick self-promotion. My mistake has been to attempt (to over and again attempt!) to place myself with in the prescribed boundaries of what A Working Artist ought to be, and invariably fail.
It seems to me that there are broadly three types of artist: Amateurs, Professionals and Outsider Artists. In my next post, I would like to try and define these three types, and think about how they overlap and interrelate. Input and new perspectives are very welcome, so if you would like to post a comment explaining what those three words mean to you, in the context of art-making and living as an artist, please do!
