Too much

I seem to constantly be thinking about what I am as an artist, what I want to be doing, what the point of my work is, how I am affecting society, how I am affecting the trajectory of art as a subset of society, why what I am doing is important, needing to justify it, feeling embarrassed to be proud to be an artist, feeling like I should have a "real job" even though I don't want a "real job" but hearing so much about how I should have one that I almost believe it, needing to justify my work to potential landlords (emphasizing the "real job" bits), trying to fit myself into applications, trying to create statements about projects or about myself, writing bios that don't feel contrived or stuck-up, wondering if the "real world" cares about my work. Too much.

It's really hard to feel like an artist when people around you seem to think its a nice hobby but "When are you going to get a real job?" It's even harder when you add self-doubt about ability or amount of output or thinking about HOW you should be being an artist.

Should it always be this hard? Does it get better? Does it get easier to break through this overwhelming barrier and just create because it's what you need to do?

What is art?

This week, "The Grid" sent out their questions crew (for lack of knowing what these people are called) to ask people by the Art Gallery of Ontario "What is art?" As most of the answers got me either confused, offended, or just angry, I got to trying to put together what my answer would be to that question. As I continued thinking, I realized that I would not have been able to answer the question 3 years ago. I'm 24. After almost 16 years of study I would not have been able to give an answer. This led me to believe that people need exposure, experience, and openness to ALL media, as well as need to have the patience to grow into knowledge and understanding to see art for what it is. In any case, I think I'm reasonably happy with this answer at this point in my life (or at least today):

Art is a self-aware, non-utilitarian expression of ideas, emotions, or opinions.

(self-aware to eliminate children's dabbling and non-utilitarian to differentiate from craft)

Thoughts?

Fantasy

There is something so magical about fantasy... It is the ultimate in imagination. The ultimate in creativity. The ultimate art, in that sense.

To create a good fantasy is to literally create a new world. I suppose, in this case, that's what any good art should do: submerge you in a world of possibility.

Reflections of reality always seem to influence more than reality itself. People have become so jaded to actual reality–they are so submerged in news and facts and horror–that the only way to cut through the muck is with a well spun story or abstraction.

Analogies. Metaphors. Similes. Symbolism. That is what thoughts are made of. That is what our unconscious is made of. Maybe the only way to cut through to the truth in our heads is to speak its own language: fiction.

Artist Statement

I just finished up an application today and realized that I haven't written an artist statement about my work as an artist (as opposed to about a specific project) in probably two years. It was exciting. I love that writing makes you realize things about yourself that, in fact, are so easy to put into words, and only a few ones at that. All the things floating about your head easily converge and connect into a brief statement. Love it:

Although I work in many disciplines, I feel my greatest skill and greatest enjoyment is in making connections. In accordance with that facility, I feel right calling myself a collage or assemblage artist. I work in a way that feels almost scientific, striving for simplicity though my connections, looking for an artistic “Theory of Everything” (modest goals, I know). I am adamant that subject informs the medium chosen for a specific project or part of a project, and so I tend to work within multiple media. I take disparate clusters of knowledge, experience, or material that I have accumulated—usually from a variety of genres and media—and work them, over time, into a cohesive whole. To me, this is progress and, to me, progress is happiness. Seeing as, to me, happiness is the ultimate goal of life, I am consistently working on making connections and making progress. Since I also believe that art needs to continue being avant-garde (the advance guard, the front line) alongside philosophy, and needs to continue leading the world’s mental and emotional progress, I feel comfortable knowing that my striving works within that ideal as well.

My work tends to explore the concept of happiness and the effects of happiness, and I at all times hope for it to beget happiness in my viewers. I am interested in the intelligence of a room versus an individual and, so, what the possibility of collaboration and “community” can hold. I hope that working collaboratively works hand in hand with my interest of working as a collage artist, and makes connections between people’s ideas. I am interested in physical and process-based research, as well as the physical manifestation of philosophical ideals.

Go artist statement :)

Specificity

Is it too much to ask for an artist to be specific in their goals? To have a reason for doing what they are doing, exploring what they are exploring. I get so tired seeing works where I cannot see/hear/feel a purpose. Techniques are used for the sake of being used, just because that's just what is happening right now or what has been done. BAD REASON! If you cannot, as an artist, understand why you are being influenced in your choices by those around you, THINK ABOUT IT. Make choices that reflect your goals. Do not just do what is being done around you. I'm tired of getting bored when nothing is being said. Even if it is a simple statement, STATE IT PROUDLY AND CLEARLY. Just make sure you have something to say first, ok?

Flow

I think I've found my flow. All of a sudden the words are writing themselves, they sound and feel right, and they mean what I'm thinking–what a rare experience. Words like to skirt the issues floating around in your brain, too concrete to really express, too vague to really understand. And for all the dislike I have for Ayn Rand's writing, I think it snapped me into this state. It was lying in wait, concealed behind an impenetrable brick wall, and the Utopian descriptions of Galt's Gultch and its inhabitants reasons for being there opened a door that I didn't see this whole time. When she spoke of the words that have been inked on my wrist for 3 years now–truth, love, joy–and I knew that she understood them in the way that I meant them, the dam overflowed. Understanding begat my acceptance that what I am thinking about is ready to be heard...