Imagine someone asking you to distill your life’s purpose and philosophy in under 300 words. It’s nearly impossible. And yet, artists are asked to do it all the time.
Thank you for this thoughtful and well-written opinion. It's difficult for many artists, myself included, to express our purpose visually, verbally, and in the written word. What comes out so easily on canvas, is difficult to put into words. It requires introspection, time, truth-telling. And, most importantly, digging deep to really understand who we are and why we do what we do. We have to learn to be brutally honest with ourselves before any meaningful statement can be formed.
thank you for writing this. i wish that every artist who read saltz's infantilizing posts could wrap your words around them like a security blanket, empowering them to write the statement that is meant to come out of them. i look forward to the next show i go to now that i have a better understanding of this part of each artist's work.
I've read this several times. Really helpful. I've found myself tripping over explaining my work sometimes as I try to parrot my own artist statement which doesn't feel right. That's why I like the statement that you shared—it's vulnerable, deep, authentic and unpretentious. You've motivated me to rework mine (which I don't think I've ever said). Thanks!
Thank you, Jennifer, for these thoughtful comments on the practice of artist statements. Many artists think they must sound profound which is an unfair burden. My favorite is probably by Jasper Johns who got right to the point, although he was being directive and not introspective: “Take an object. Do something with it. Do something else with it.”
That pretty much describes what I do with my work. My statement reads:
“I think with my hands. I don't tell them what to do and they don't tell me why they did it. That's the only way we get along. Each mark I make is a little window into a rented room where a collective of unreal shapes, lines, and colors jostle for position. Some stay, most get up and leave. Wrong party. Over days and weeks, if I am lucky, a confident figure starts to move, laugh, think. One day, it turns to me and says, ‘Hey, you there, you in the filthy apron, pour me a Scotch.’ As it’s not polite to let a painting drink alone, I pour two.”
Thank you for this thoughtful and well-written opinion. It's difficult for many artists, myself included, to express our purpose visually, verbally, and in the written word. What comes out so easily on canvas, is difficult to put into words. It requires introspection, time, truth-telling. And, most importantly, digging deep to really understand who we are and why we do what we do. We have to learn to be brutally honest with ourselves before any meaningful statement can be formed.
thank you for writing this. i wish that every artist who read saltz's infantilizing posts could wrap your words around them like a security blanket, empowering them to write the statement that is meant to come out of them. i look forward to the next show i go to now that i have a better understanding of this part of each artist's work.
I've read this several times. Really helpful. I've found myself tripping over explaining my work sometimes as I try to parrot my own artist statement which doesn't feel right. That's why I like the statement that you shared—it's vulnerable, deep, authentic and unpretentious. You've motivated me to rework mine (which I don't think I've ever said). Thanks!
Thank you, Jennifer, for these thoughtful comments on the practice of artist statements. Many artists think they must sound profound which is an unfair burden. My favorite is probably by Jasper Johns who got right to the point, although he was being directive and not introspective: “Take an object. Do something with it. Do something else with it.”
That pretty much describes what I do with my work. My statement reads:
“I think with my hands. I don't tell them what to do and they don't tell me why they did it. That's the only way we get along. Each mark I make is a little window into a rented room where a collective of unreal shapes, lines, and colors jostle for position. Some stay, most get up and leave. Wrong party. Over days and weeks, if I am lucky, a confident figure starts to move, laugh, think. One day, it turns to me and says, ‘Hey, you there, you in the filthy apron, pour me a Scotch.’ As it’s not polite to let a painting drink alone, I pour two.”
David Slader
Dslader46@gmail.com
Davidslader.com
Thank you, Beth.