For grant
applications and grad school applications I’ve written a number of Artist
Statements, which are supposed to be a kind of distillation of what I believe as
an artist, and how that informs the art that I make.
Everyone I know
complains about writing them, and so do I – it can be an agonizing process
full of “I” statements, and it can also be a really valuable exercise in simply
articulating, for myself and for anyone else who cares to read it, what the
heck I’m doing, and why I think I’m doing it.
Sometimes the huffy,
entitled artist in me will rear his ugly head, and start making noise about how it
all proceeds from instinct, from the Muse, from something deep-down and
inexplicable. But those spells are shorter and shorter as I get older. On
one hand I actually have some answers to those questions, and on the other hand, I’m
curious myself about the reasons, conscious and unconscious, behind what I
make.
So now I’m actually
in art school, enrolled in the MFA program at the University of Minnesota, and that’s the
whole point of the program, basically. To make a lot of stuff and talk about it
a lot. And I have many layers of ideas on this topic, after writing dozens of
Artist Statements over the past ten years, but what seems really important is
that get through those layers and get to the heart of it, so I can make it a
part of the evolving process itself.
One thing I realized recently is that a lot of the highly successful artists I know of were and are good at talking
about their work – and I don’t think that’s an accident. Stan Brakhage writes
really eloquently, and Jonas Mekas actually wrote about film for the Village
Voice for years. Their films are brilliant, but I don’t know if they
would’ve received the attention they did, and still do, without all of the writing they did over the years. Writing and teaching, and talking.
I like to talk about
my work – so it’s only one step to writing about it. And I have this handy blog
already, which has been neglected for the past few years, and a blog is kind of
an ideal venue for this sort of writing. On one hand nobody ever needs to read
it but me, but on the other hand the stakes are raised just a little bit,
because the possibility always exists that someone will wander through and read
everything. So it’s like decorating your front porch – it can still be very
personal and somewhat private, even though it’s also visible from the street.
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