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Q: Why do I have to write an artist statement? It's stupid. If I wanted to write to express myself I would have been a writer. The whole idea of my art is to say things visually. Why can't people just look at my art and take away whatever experiences they will?
A: Artist statements are not stupid; they're more like essential. And you don't have to be a writer to write one. And people already look at your art and take away whatever experiences they will. Your artist statement is about facts, a basic introduction to your art; it's not instructions on what to experience, what to think, how to feel, how to act, or where to stand, and if it is, you'd better do a rewrite.
On this planet, people communicate through language, and your artist statement introduces and communicates the language component of your art. People who come into contact with your art and want to know more will have questions. When you're there, they ask you and you answer. When you're not there, your artist statement answers for you. Or when you're there, but you don't like to answer questions, or you're too busy to answer questions, or someone's too embarrassed to ask you questions, then your pal, your artist statement, does the job. So let's get busy and write the damn thing.
Just about all artists want as many people as possible to appreciate their art. A good artist statement works towards this end, and the most important ingredient of a good statement is its language. WRITE YOUR STATEMENT IN LANGUAGE THAT ANYONE CAN UNDERSTAND, not language that you understand, not language that you and your friends understand, not language that you learn in art school, but everyday language that you use with everyday people to accomplish everyday things. An effective statement reaches out and welcomes people to your art, no matter how little or how much they know about art to begin with; it never excludes. Rest assured that those who read your statement and still want to know more will christen you with ample opportunities to get technical, metaphysical, philosophical, personal, emotional, moralistic, socially relevant, historical, environmentally responsible, political, autobiographical, anecdotal, or twisty with jargon-- LATER, NOT NOW.
Like an introduction to a book, your statement presents the fundamental underpinnings of your art; write it for people who are about to read "your book," not those who've already read it. In three to five paragraphs of three to five sentences each, provide basic information like WHY YOU MAKE YOUR ART, HOW YOU MAKE IT, WHAT IT'S MADE OUT OF, and perhaps briefly, WHAT YOUR ART MEANS TO YOU. Don't bog readers down, but rather entice them to want to know more. As with any good first impression, your statement should hook and invite further inquiry, like a really good story is about to be told. Give too little, not too much.
People have short attention spans. When you front-load the details, you risk drowning readers in minutia, readers who might otherwise persevere if you keep it simple. Address and answer commonly asked questions about your art. Save the complicated stuff for those who progress to the next level. Don't worry about pleasing your fans; you won't bore them and you won't lose them. They have ways to get their questions answered. Remember: Your statement is about broadening your audience, not keeping it static. You'll have plenty of time to give the grand tour-- LATER, NOT NOW.
Your statement is about you, so personalize it. Infuse it with your unique perspective. Whenever possible, make it conversational, like you're talking to readers (Note: A good editor can work wonders here). The more complex, theoretical, intangible, or impersonal your statement, the more trouble people have trying to get through it and connecting with your art on meaningful levels. Few readers want to burn energy trying to decipher abstractions; they burn energy all day long. For now, they just want to see your art, take it easy, and enjoy themselves.
Additional considerations:
* Artists are artists, not writers, so think seriously about hiring a professional writer or editor, preferably one with an art background, to help you convey what you want your statement to convey in language that people can understand.
* Make "I" statements, rather than "you" statements. Talk about what your art does for you, not what it's supposed to do for the readers. This doesn't mean that you start every sentence with "I," but rather that you respect people's autonomy and allow them to respond to your art as they wish.
* At all times, give readers the option to agree or disagree with you. Never pressure them or dictate outcomes.
* Avoid comparative or evaluative comments that have been made about your art by third parties such as gallery owners, critics, collectors, or curators. These belong in your curriculum vitae. In your statement, they're name-dropping; in your curriculum vitae, they're testimonials.
* Connect what your art expresses with the medium that you're expressing it in. For example, if your art is about world peace, and it consists of twigs protruding from pieces of clay, explain the connection. Arbitrarily stating that twig/clay protrusions represent world peace leaves people wondering. If, of course, the object of your art or your statement is to leave people wondering, then that's O.K. In art, everything is O.K., but in order to succeed as an artist, someone beside yourself generally has to get the point of what you're doing.
* Be specific, not vague. For example, if your art is "inspired by assessments of the fundamentals of the natural world," tell which fundamentals you're assessing and how they inspire you.
* Avoid obscure references to music, art, literature, history, or anything else that requires detailed explanation. If you have to make such a reference, explain it fast so that people know what you're talking about. If you can't do it fast, do it later.
* Tell the story about what led up to your art ONLY if it's short, compelling, and really really relevant. People are generally not interested in progressions of antecedent events. Something leads up to everything; we all know that.
* Avoid comparing yourself to other artists. If other artists influence you, fine, but don't say, "Like Picasso, I do this" or "Like Judd, I do that." Instead, say something like "Picasso's Blue and Rose paintings influence how I use yellow." Better yet, leave other artists out of your statement altogether. Let the critics decide who you're like.
* Don't instruct people on how to see, feel, behave, respond, or otherwise relate to your art. Nobody likes being told what to do. Instead of saying "You will experience angst when you see my art," say "This art expresses my angst" or "I express my angst through my art." Or go see a therapist and get rid of your angst.
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Before you go public with your statement, get feedback. Show your art and statement to friends, friends' friends, and maybe even a stranger or two. Make sure they understand what you want them to understand. When they don't, or you have to explain yourself, do a rewrite and eliminate the confusion. If you need help, find someone who writes or edits and have them fix the problem. Many times, a little rearranging is all that's necessary to make your statement a clean clear read.
No matter how good your statement is, know up front that most people will read it and move on; only a few will want to know more, and fewer yet will ultimately progress to the point where they buy your art. That's simply the nature of art and personal taste. Having said that, never underestimate the power of an effective statement to intensify and enhance the experience of your art.
WRITING YOUR ARTIST STATEMENT
By Ariane Goodwin, Ed.D.
An artist statement is an essential part of a good portfolio. Gallery owners respect the professionalism of a good statement. A good statement allows people who love your work to find out more about you, offers your audience more ways to connect with you, and increases their appreciation and perceived value of your work. Equally important, an artist statement gives you the opportunity to see what you do through the eyes of language, to validate your creations from a new perspective. However, artists attempting to write their statements are faced with the daunting problem of coherently organizing all those words!
Words are a completely different experience from the tactile world of art making. Paper and paint inhabit the world of our senses, while words remain the detached curios of our minds. Once in a while, when the two worlds connect and words entice our senses, we love it.
So what stops us from using words to describe our art, the same words that have been with us since we could walk? Why are we so suspicious of language, one of our fundamental connections to being human?
The answer, in part, relates to a fatal combination of art critics and education. Art critics use language as scepters of judgment; if their words determine our self-worth, then by all means, kill the messenger. Formal education uses language as a means of control; we are taught when, where and how we can or cannot use which words, and, consequently, we grow to mistrust our relationship to language. The mistrust smolders underground, mostly unnoticed, until our words are thrust into containers, like the artist statement. Suddenly, words make us visible targets for judgment and criticism.
An opportunity to write an artist statement often causes us to second guess every idea we ever had about our work. We convince ourselves that we have nothing to say, or certainly nothing to say of value. Our first instinct is to either turn off the light and head out of the studio or pump ourselves up to overwrite. But running away confirms our fears that there must be something to run away from. And pumping up encourages us to use flimsy or pretentious words to smooth over our mistrust of language. This, in turn, fuels our perception that language cannot adequately describe our art.
Luckily, you have an alternative to giving up on your statement before you start. Instead, pretend that you have a lot to say that is neither self-important nor trivial, but is rather relevant, revealing, and wonderful. Imagine that all of your objections to writing have been overcome and you are simply going to write whatever you believe to be true, at the moment, about your work. The good news is that by letting yourself go, you can discover and create a working artist statement.
There is an unselfconscious language about your work which you use all the time. Every time you talk or think about your work, you experience a relationship between words and your art. The trick is to learn how to catch yourself doing this, and then faithfully write it down.
A Few Tips For Getting Started:
Treat your artist statement with the same care that your treat your art. It's all about you.
Use a notebook that is lovely or practical and keep it with you at all times-- in the studio, in the car, beside your bed.
Find and use a writing pen or pencil that flows smoothly across the surface.
Take a few weeks to jot down any fleeting thoughts that come to you about your work. Give yourself permission to gather. Selecting and sorting can come later when you have enough in your basket.
Make specific times and dates with yourself to transform your notes and write your statement. Respect these times. Do not tolerate interruptions.
Prepare your internal space. Close your eyes and conjure up your worst critic. In your mind's eye, lead this person out of the room. Give them another task, besides breathing over your shoulder, say, climbing a tree, or skipping stones, or going to the local library. Tell your critic not to come back until you are ready. Critics are terrified of being abandoned, that's why they are so tenacious, so reassure yours that there will be a place set just for them at the editing and revision table. Critics are also stubborn. You may have to do this more than once.
Write more than one statement. Like different works of art, an artist statement also thrives on change and rising out of "the moment." What suits this month's work may not work for next month's work.
Give yourself permission to make mistakes. Let yourself write badly. Crumple up lots of paper balls and throw them in a corner. That's the beginner's way. Then, when your statement comes out great, which it eventually will, you will know the difference.
Ariane Goodwin, Ed.D. is an Artist Career Coach and writer. Her websites are Smartist-Telesummit.com and Artist-Statement.com.
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