What’s your work about?

Something has shifted; I’ve reached the realisation feminist concerns are central to my practice. It’s as if pieces of the puzzle have just clicked into place finally granting me illumination – understanding that perhaps I’ve also been unconsciously resisting to some extent. This links partly to negative feelings I have about 1960’s and 1970’s feminism, which feels too strident and somewhat out of step with modern society. Perhaps it’s also partly due to fear? This is a complex, overwhelming subject – how do I find an authentic voice to vocalise what I feel?

I think this may have been the main thing blocking my ability to talk about my practice.

Now I’ve reached this realisation, what means of resistance to use? Does an aggressive approach come to close to the masculinized perspective I wish to deny, subvert, and reject? For Mignon Nixon, not necessarily – she highlights how Barbara Kruger successfully elicits identification and refusal simultaneously with the stereotype within her work, ultimately undermining and reversing gender stereotyping. I found this quote from her that I love, talking about how Kruger creates ‘…large-scale displays that pulse, blast, and overwhelm the body, exceeding the limits of any frame …’ Something to aspire to. (1)

Alternative approaches must also be possible – writers such as Judith Butler allude to them, although without further research I don’t understand as yet what these may look like.

(1) Nixon, M. 1992. You thrive on mistaken identity. October (60), Spring 1992. p.68:69).



My question to self is; how far should one go to understand and explain ones work?

W.J.T. Mitchell says ‘ …prevailing tropes of differentiation between verbal and visual representation (time and space, convention and nature, the ear and the eye) do not provide a stable theoretical foundation for regulated comparative studies of words and images.’ (1)

Perhaps I’m co-opting this for my own interests to imply something the writer doesn’t, but my take is that words and images can never be meaningfully equivalent to each other due to a fundamental difference in nature. So any endeavour to shift something visual into language must fail. Pinning down information too precisely is also undesirable – there’s no fun left with no room for manoeuvre. This leaves the only valid goal as providing clues for the viewer if you desire to supplement the image and enhance the viewing experience.

How does this fit with the situation the artist-maker finds themselves in? I’m studying an MA and the structure of the course expects me to explain my work in some detail. This is a learning opportunity – I should leave the course with a better understanding of my practice than I started with. But does what’s required go too far? Or perhaps, rather, the pressure imposed is self-generated – I should learn to admit I don’t know all the answers? And perhaps this isn’t as negative as I’ve tended to view it in the past since the unresolved question offers an opportunity for debate!

I think pressures may shift in the ‘real’ world – I’m often asked for a personal statement and the awfully named ‘elevator’ pitch is useful to respond to general queries. But I suppose being asked for anything more detailed is unlikely except at interviews or presentations – and at least these are self-inflicted opportunities that can be prepared for!

(1) Mitchell, W.J.T. (1994). Picture theory. London: The University of Chicago Press Ltd. p:88

What’s in an artist statement?

I think this question is essential to answer – how can one talk effectively about one’s practice without this as a basis from which to work?

Artquest says:

An artist statement is a short piece of writing about your work, practice and wider intellectual concerns. It should act as an introduction to your practice as a whole, highlighting the common threads of ideas, motivations and process running through your work. A longer statement may go into more detail about specific works. A statement should give the reader a better understanding of where your practice and interests come from, influences on you or your work, and support them in interpreting what you do.

It recommends use of plain English and emphasises the importance of staying on topic – your practice – rather than questioning wider philosophical concepts. Consider talking about media used, processes, themes, ideas, concerns, outside influences, and explain what unites individual pieces of work into a practice.

I think the ideal statement reflects the personality of the artist, and a unique writing style is good as long as it isn’t distractingly quirky.

I also find the rhythm and emotive potential of words important. For example, break has little effect on me, whereas I find fracture quite emotive, especially when used alongside words in an alliterative way, such as fragment. Punctuation can enhance the effect so, for example, an abrupt structure adds to the impact of discord within a sentence. But perhaps what affect one is a very personal experience?

I believe an effective artist statement shouldn’t close down discussion – pin and fix things into position with no loose ends. Rather, its purpose should be to provide a launch point that gives the reader more information than they possessed before, but leaves room for manoeuvre for thoughts and interpretations to develop.

And if this entire topic is too boring to contemplate, there’s always Charlotte Young’s unique take on the artist statement – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3v8DbLWAXvU!

http://www.artquest.org.uk/articles/view/how-to-write-an-artist-s-statement

What do YOU think an artist statement should contain?

Right, I’ve established the three words crucial to my practice, but where to go from here? One piece of past advice from tutors is to map concerns. My tendency is to over-complicate, so mapping risks submersion in too much detail. Never-the-less, I think this it’s the way to go…

Interesting – after some initial complications and brain ache, this approach has worked. It’s enabled me to streamline my thoughts, identify and remove duplications, and simplify connections. It’s apparent now my key concerns are fewer than I thought – the gaze and the fracture. It’s immediately obvious (why wasn’t it before?) that the photograph is a ‘red herring’ – not a concern, but rather the vehicle upon which these concerns are enacted, in a similar way as selecting artists work to discuss and explore ideas. At this point, the reader may well be saying ‘What‘??? But, believe me, I find this realisation crucial.

So, what’s the best way to document what I’ve found? My first attempt was to list the data hierarchically under headings, sub-headings, etc. This seemed to work fine but, when I tried to map this pictorially to reveal the relationships between elements, it quickly fell apart to reveal duplications and differing results to those I’d originally been aware of. The outcome is here…[http://clairemanning.co.uk/z_concepts_map.html]

I’m going to shift the focus of this blog – it’s due to an excellent talk given by Rosalind Davis and Annabel Tilley on Surviving as an artist. The key thing I heard was the importance of communication – of entering into a meaningful dialogue with others. College restarts next week and, yet again, I’m faced with the trauma of explaining my practice to others, something as I confessed in my last post, I HATE. But, if I can’t do this, how can I ever communicate effectively as an artist? I’m going to treat this blog as if it were a dialogue with a stranger, as I suppose it actually is, and I’m going to master the matter once and for all.

Glancing back at my last two posts illustrates my dilemma – how do I bridge the space between Didi-Huberman and Dr Who? One perspective is theoretical and conceptual – perhaps closed down; discouraging dialogue with others – whilst the other is more down-to-earth, less assured and perhaps more engaging. I know they’re different in nature, one posed as factual information and the other as questions, but still they sit somewhat uneasily together for me.

Rosalind and Annabel’s suggested starting point is to find three words crucial to one’s practice. For me, I’d have to say fracture and gaze in the photograph. Yes, I know it’s more than three words, but I’m advised it’s a mantra to be repeated until it becomes second nature, ready to pull out at the drop of a hat in response to the question what’s your work about?

Oh, and my last free tips courtesy of Annabel and Rosalind? Make the most of the chance to communicate – have a website, use twitter, blogging is good. Ensure you link from one to the other so, for example, add an automatic signature to your emails with your website address. And always be courteous!

Useful links: http://www.zeitgeistartsprojects.com/diy-main.html

http://annabeltilley.com/

http://www.rosalinddavis.co.uk/