LayoutNov_Julie.indd

ARTIST STATEMENTS:

AN ESSENTIAL GRAIN OF SAND By Ariane Goodwin, Ed.D.

S tory #1: An artist contacted me once about a gallery in Soho that had asked to show his work. I’m not sure “thrilled” adequately describes his reaction. I am sure that his balloon deflated when they requested an artist statement. One year later it was so flat that, even though he was still painting, he was not exhibiting in Soho and had no artist statement.

Story #2: Another artist asked for help in writing her first artist statement, which we did…with all the attending hiccups. (It is so tempting to hide the vulnerable and personal self who creates art behind aloof words and spiritless sentences.) Imagine her surprise, a few weeks later, when a collector told her that the artist statement convinced her to buy three pieces.

So, it is with utter assurance that I call the artist statement an essential grain of sand in your artist shoe. Small, yet infuriating, it demands our attention…and with good reason.

Essential in a portfolio and vital for your website, the artist

statement expands your connection to your audience, garners

the professional respect of gallery owners, and **helps rank you

higher in search engines.

With so many pluses, what’s all the fuss about?

What is so gosh-darn daunting about putting a few, measly words

down on paper? (3 paragraphs minimum, 1 page maximum)

I suspect it’s a potent mixture of personal and collective

elements.

First, there’s a gap between what we experience in the world

of words and what we experience in the world of art making.

Words are detached curios of our minds, where making art is a

swirl of senses engaged with movement, sound, color, shape, and

textures.

Second, there’s the fatal combination of art critics and education. Critics use language as swords of judgment. So if their words strike our self-worth, then by all means retaliate and kill the messenger.

Formal education works hard to control us as it shapes our very personal, very private language of self into a public forum of communication skills. We are taught when, where, and how we can or cannot use which words. Consequently, we grow to mistrust our personal, evolving 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. We will open our mouths, and out will pour sticky dark goop that, like Tar Baby, we cannot escape.

But what happens if we approach the artist statement as a commentary on our personal relationship to our art–why and how we do what we do–and it is well written–no “cutting edge” phrases, academic mumbling, or peacock strutting? This statement

based on relationship, as opposed to a critique, becomes a way to

increase our connection to our audience through a universal and

powerful medium: personal language. When you’ve captured

someone with your art, the most human response is to want to

know more about you – the artist.

The key is to use the personal with professional aplomb. It’s a

high wire act for sure, but you can do it by paying attention to

each step.

Here are a few tips on how to catch your authentic and

unselfconscious language about your work, which floats through

your mind all the time:

• Treat your artist statement with the same care that your treat your art.

• Choose a notebook that is lovely, or practical, and keep it beside you—in the studio, in the car, next to your bed.

• Use a writing implement that rests comfortably in your hands, and flows smoothly across the surface. I recommend handwriting, not keyboarding, because it accesses a different language area of our brains.

• For a few weeks jot down every thought that comes to you about your work. Fleeting specks count as much as grand canyons. Give yourself permission to gather without judgment. Selecting and sorting comes 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.

• Before you write, close your eyes and conjure up your worst critic. In your mind’s eye, lead this person from the room. Tell your critic to go climb a tree, skip stones, or head over to the local library…and do not, under any circumstances, come back until summoned. But, since critics are terrified of being abandoned (that’s why they’re so tenacious) give reassurance that you will set a place for her (or him) at the editing table. Critics are also notoriously stubborn. You may have to do this more than once.

• Your final statement should tell your audience why and how you do what you do. Use story elements to engage, and as many senses as makes sense (sight, sound, touch, etc.). Use specific examples, but remember: this does not have to be a definitive explanation. All you need is a taste, an appetizer that reflects the essence. This is, after all, a grain of sand.

• Put your final draft away and do not look at it for days or weeks. Then review it and give the statement to 3 people whose sense of the English language you trust. If 2 or 3 have a similar response to something, take notice.

• 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 be too tight, or loose, for next month’s.

Most importantly, give yourself permission to write badly. Make mistakes. Crumple up lots of paper balls and toss 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.



	ARTIST STATEMENTS: AN ESSENTIAL GRAIN OF SAND By Ariane Goodwin, Ed.D.

	S tory #1: An artist contacted me once about a gallery in Soho that had asked to show his work. I’m not sure “thrilled” adequately describes his reaction. I am sure that his balloon deflated when they requested an artist statement. One year later it was so flat that, even though he was still painting, he was not exhibiting in Soho and had no artist statement. Story #2: Another artist asked for help in writing her first artist statement, which we did…with all the attending hiccups. (It is so tempting to hide the vulnerable and personal self who creates art behind aloof words and spiritless sentences.) Imagine her surprise, a few weeks later, when a collector told her that the artist statement convinced her to buy three pieces. So, it is with utter assurance that I call the artist statement an essential grain of sand in your artist shoe. Small, yet infuriating, it demands our attention…and with good reason. Essential in a portfolio and vital for your website, the artist statement expands your connection to your audience, garners the professional respect of gallery owners, and **helps rank you higher in search engines. With so many pluses, what’s all the fuss about? What is so gosh-darn daunting about putting a few, measly words down on paper? (3 paragraphs minimum, 1 page maximum) I suspect it’s a potent mixture of personal and collective elements. First, there’s a gap between what we experience in the world of words and what we experience in the world of art making. Words are detached curios of our minds, where making art is a swirl of senses engaged with movement, sound, color, shape, and textures. Second, there’s the fatal combination of art critics and education. Critics use language as swords of judgment. So if their words strike our self-worth, then by all means retaliate and kill the messenger. Formal education works hard to control us as it shapes our very personal, very private language of self into a public forum of communication skills. We are taught when, where, and how we can or cannot use which words. Consequently, we grow to mistrust our personal, evolving 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. We will open our mouths, and out will pour sticky dark goop that, like Tar Baby, we cannot escape. But what happens if we approach the artist statement as a commentary on our personal relationship to our art–why and how we do what we do–and it is well written–no “cutting edge” phrases, academic mumbling, or peacock strutting? This statement	based on relationship, as opposed to a critique, becomes a way to increase our connection to our audience through a universal and powerful medium: personal language. When you’ve captured someone with your art, the most human response is to want to know more about you – the artist. The key is to use the personal with professional aplomb. It’s a high wire act for sure, but you can do it by paying attention to each step. Here are a few tips on how to catch your authentic and unselfconscious language about your work, which floats through your mind all the time: • Treat your artist statement with the same care that your treat your art. • Choose a notebook that is lovely, or practical, and keep it beside you—in the studio, in the car, next to your bed. • Use a writing implement that rests comfortably in your hands, and flows smoothly across the surface. I recommend handwriting, not keyboarding, because it accesses a different language area of our brains. • For a few weeks jot down every thought that comes to you about your work. Fleeting specks count as much as grand canyons. Give yourself permission to gather without judgment. Selecting and sorting comes 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. • Before you write, close your eyes and conjure up your worst critic. In your mind’s eye, lead this person from the room. Tell your critic to go climb a tree, skip stones, or head over to the local library…and do not, under any circumstances, come back until summoned. But, since critics are terrified of being abandoned (that’s why they’re so tenacious) give reassurance that you will set a place for her (or him) at the editing table. Critics are also notoriously stubborn. You may have to do this more than once. • Your final statement should tell your audience why and how you do what you do. Use story elements to engage, and as many senses as makes sense (sight, sound, touch, etc.). Use specific examples, but remember: this does not have to be a definitive explanation. All you need is a taste, an appetizer that reflects the essence. This is, after all, a grain of sand. • Put your final draft away and do not look at it for days or weeks. Then review it and give the statement to 3 people whose sense of the English language you trust. If 2 or 3 have a similar response to something, take notice. • 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 be too tight, or loose, for next month’s. Most importantly, give yourself permission to write badly. Make mistakes. Crumple up lots of paper balls and toss 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.