Friday, February 10, 2006

Writing (UGH) the Artist's Statement

I hate having to write an artist's statement. Not because I have too little to say, but rather because I have too much to say and condensing it down is a bitch. Now if it is a scientific abstract I am writing, or a proposal, I can condense without a problem. But I have an incredibly difficult time writing an artist's statement, probably because I have a gazillion things to say about the work and I don't know where to begin. It's even more difficult to write a statement for a proposal for a two-artist show. How do we find the right words to pull together works around a theme, seen from differing perspectives, using different methods and vocabularies into a whole that makes sense? Tying together two bodies of work is more of a challenge than I thought it would be.

Not knowing where to begin is also the problem I am having with my personal statement. So maybe it would help to brainstorm all of the thoughts in my head about the work, my motivation, my vocabulary...

  1. From childhood on I have been a diligent observer of people. It was a survival tactic, enabling me to predict how they would act and react and therefore prepare myself for what was ahead.
  2. I studied psychology in college because: a. I wanted to understand why people did what they did; b. I wanted to help people (my therapist once called me a teat for the world); and c. I wanted to figure out how to heal myself emotionally (adolescence was hell)
  3. I am an empathizer. Have always been fascinated by Charles Williams conception of "bearing each others burdens" in the "doctrine of substituted love" (Descent into Hell) and how different that is from just empathising or sympathizing. There is something powerful about the act of taking on part of someone else's burdens so that their load will be lighter.
  4. Living in Venezuela taught me to celebrate the human body, taught me that every society values and idealizes different aspects and different types of bodies
  5. For as long as I have been creating art, I have been making images of human bodies, in clay, on paper, and now in glass. In particular this happened for me after I had lived in Venezuela.
  6. In my professional life I am an abstract thinker. I take abstractions, numbers, statistics, and weave stories from them to help paint a picture of what is happening with whatever I have been measuring (usually human behavior). My professional work is a big picture view of the observations I have been making since I was a child.
  7. Since I was a kid, sitting at the dinner table answering the word problems in math that our father threw at us, I have been creating math problems in my head to amuse myself. I look at buildings and try to calculate how many offices are in the building, how many people work there. I play games with myself, looking at the groceries I have placed on the conveyor belt and try to guess what the bill will be. (I am usually right within five dollars.)
  8. I married later (at 39) than most of my friends did and then discovered I was infertile. I had always hoped to bear children. I would have loved to have a child. Adoption wasn't a comfortable option for us early on and now would be very difficult to pull off. I still grieve the barrenness of my womb, the injustice of a universe that gives one woman extreme fertility, the ability to get pregnant the first time she tries (or doesn't) and takes from her sister all fertility. Some days I just can't bear to be around children. Amazing that after all of these years of facing it, it still brings tears to my eyes.
  9. Loss seems to be a recurring theme for me right now. I feel the loss of my womb deeply, albeit less frequently than before. I still grieve the loss of my friend and colleague Tony. I am facing the impending loss of my father and my mother-in-law. I try desperately to ignore the illness of a dear friend, yet know her day may well come long before mine.
  10. I am fighting the loss of my youth, of my strength and flexibility, as arthritis pain begins to take me over and the muscles in my back begin railing at me for the years of compensating for a short leg. For the first time in my life ever, I am able to bend over and touch the floor with my hands with straight legs, unbent knees. I have set a goal for myself - to be in better shape at 50 than I was at 25. Three years to make that goal!
  11. Three bullets on loss is more than enough!
  12. Seeing a Matisse retrospective at the MOMA in the early '90s was a mind-blaster for me. After that show I started drawing figures incessantly, exploring color, figure ground, composition. Then I started life drawing classes at the Art Student's League of New York and was blown away by the beauty of the body.
  13. The body in my work today is not about beauty, even if I see beauty in the body. I am using this work to capture what I do: observe. The figures in my work are intended to be seen as abstractions of emotions, feelings, experiences
  14. I code switch, as comfortable in the world of numbers and statistics as in my studio. I can get as excited about drawing conclusions from statistical analyses (the more complex the better) as I do when I pull a successful piece out of the kiln, when I see a powder wafer reveal itself to me.

to be continued.....

1 Comments:

Blogger Brenda Griffith said...

I am so glad you sent me the link to this blog! I am a from-the-beginning type, so when you sent it to me I started reading all the entries from the beginning. But then life, the BMAC and our recent trip to California all conspired to put me behind. So today I did not try to get back to where I left off. Today I tried something totally alien for me and started at the top and read down. What a revelation! It works that way too! Just goes to show that however much we may think of life as a linear progression, it's not. I can read it backwards and it doesn't make it backwards.

Now keep going! You said "to be continued", please do! I am fascinated.

10:53 AM  

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