Feet First

I refuse to discuss weather (more snow anyone?) or art (make that the "art world") so I guess that reduces the range of discourse to socks. But really? On the subject of socks, I think I made out like a bandit when I scored the above socks for only $2 (on total markdown) in the boys section of a department store. Forget women's socks! Made of nasty thin acrylic that offers no warmth or cushioning and they wear out very fast. Even so-called boot socks tend towards the skimpy... if you can even find them.
And look at THESE:

Who designs these things? Ankle shark attack socks... how cool is that? Jules is, of course, getting his big hoof into the shot as if to say, "I don't need to worry about socks!" At least my toes are happy.
I think I'm coming down with a cold so I'm sort of stupid and have a mildly sore throat. That's what I get for having to work at the auction and deal with rude, whiny people instead of playing in my studio! I'm run down and taking pictures of my sock collection! How pathetic is that?
Well, having woke up and realizing that there is three inches of new snow has not done much to improve my state of mind. I want to start gardening, damn it. Stuck inside and sick of it!

Yes But

Okay, I promise that this will be my last in a continuing exploration of gnarly art world conundrum rants (at least for a while). The "Small Pillow of Conditionality" (above) is not a new piece, but appropriately summarizes the ultimate paradox. Yes, we (as artists) don't want to be told what to do or how to make our work BUT we do want to sell things.
That presents a huge conflict because I firmly believe that most people (who ever they are) really want art to consist of unambiguously pretty pictures, not knotty contentious sociological diagrams of what atrocity was committed where. Honestly. Ask any one entering a major museum and they'll enthusiastically tell you they're headed straight to the Impressionists or the Renaissance masterpieces. And who can blame them? After a particularly awful week of killings and economic slumping and surgical procedures, art is viewed as a mini-vacation from reality.
But of course the reality is that many artists, myself included, don't always make pretty pictures. Witness the above pillow, sewn with used Band Aids. I suppose it's "pretty" in that the complimentary red fabrics echo the red blood in a charming and supportive way, not to mention the carefully applied piping around the perimeter. But is anyone going to buy my bloody Band Aid pillow... probably not, even though it does show case my winsome sense of humor nicely.
And it's damned hard, as we all know, to get people to part with their filthy lucre so as long as the artist in question isn't producing lovely watercolors of sailboats and iconic, weathered red barns, there's little danger that a sale is being made.
So we want it both ways. We want to sell, but we want to sell what we make, even if what we make isn't always traditional and representational or beautiful. Despite ourselves, we occasionally do sell something and that does confirm our inner suspicions that we are indeed geniuses.
Are you still with me? For the non-artist, this is all probably a bit tiresome, but to us "creative types" (I keep hearing that phrase) it's what keeps us up at night: How to sell, without selling out.

And Another Thing....

(That's a photograph I got from work that was going to be tossed! Wow! Ganesh in red long johns! I absolutely love it, and it's not some print, but a real photograph! Good visual for my continued ranting...)
And another thing: not only are artists not factories, but their work isn't "product".
As I have saliently pointed out to anyone who will listen, art isn't like baling wire or underpants- designed for some particular occasion or specific need. Art is a strange and peculiar occurrence. The stuff we artists make (called "art") is unique and falls into its own universe, It's governed by its own discrete set of internal laws and those laws may or may not make sense to anyone else. That's why no one can tell you that your art work is stupid or pointless or anything else, because those statements are irrelevant. Art is whatever you as an artist choose to make. Now whether anyone else wants that stuff you produce is another entire discussion...
But returning to my central argument: you can make whatever you want and call it art. That's as long as it stays in your studio or is given as a gift or simply decorates your family members wall. As soon as it enters that exotic realm known affectionately as "The Art World" it becomes something else again. This is where the expectations change and the concept of art as "product" appears.
Products are admired for being uniform, intentional and pretty easy to describe. For example, if you make seating accommodations in your atelier, your product should bear some resemblance to a chair, that is, it should have (at minimum) a seat and legs of some kind. People quite correctly request an item that answers to their needs to sit.
Art is not always like this. When galleries or collectors or random cranks request art that resembles product, all kinds of  trouble ensues. For one thing, many artists have no idea what the next thing they make is going to look like. Yes, it may all fall loosely under the heading "painting" or "print" or even (heaven forbid) "sculpture" but other than that, it can look like anything. Or nothing. I suppose fundamentally that is a central sticking point to the need for galleries (essentially stores where art is sold) to sell whatever it is they sell. Art.
But when gallerists start demanding that the next picture be the same as the last picture (or last thirty pictures), that's a problem. Art shouldn't have to look like itself, although possibly over time, the mature artist develops a style and therefore is somewhat recognizable. A Matisse looks pretty much like a Matisse most of the time. A Degas looks like a Degas and on. But contemporary art doesn't always play by those rules and it's not uncommon for an artist (in full blown post-studio mode) to make a video, do a painting and also exhibit something altogether different (that looks like yesterday's regurgitated lunch.) That's okay. It keeps things interesting. I think high end established artists feel this less than early career artists who are persistently admonished to produce the same piece many times over... especially if that piece sold.
The sold piece is therefore more desirable, and everyone wants the same piece. This is where the art fair model starts looking pretty awful. We had the pleasure of attending one recently in NYC. There was a whole lot of product on hand- and not much art. So many galleries were selling things that resembled other offerings on display at another booth. There was lots of product.
I confess: art is not easy to sell. It's gnarly and stubborn and quirky, all attributes that defy easy sales. But what's the alternative? A slew of mediocre products that a few collectors want. Is anyone happy with this model?

An Artist's Rant- Artists Are Not Factories!

Sometimes it's good to offer follow up, as in the above version of "No" that has happily evolved into "No Future". I'm certain to upset some people who choose to be relentlessly "positive" but I don't think this piece is essentially "negative". Rather, it's meant as a beautiful way to deliver bad news. I know that many younger people feel dead ended; they are living at home with parents that they have out grown and can't find meaningful work. Somebody should break it to them, but do it in a visually appealing way. Therefore, the above offering.
But my rant is actually entitled "Artists Are Not Factories!". Really. Ask an artist: have you been told, "Oh, make me another one... but in blue". Or, "Can you do ten more just like that one?" Or even better, "You're creative. Just put all those things (that have absolutely nothing to do with each other) together in an attractive way."
And then of course there's the endless plea for donations of all kinds. I was recently forwarded an email from an organization I know nothing about that claimed I would be lucky to be among the first 400 artists to get my work into a show, where all the work was donated so that this group could benefit. And could you make sure it's under 13 inches on a side? How exactly was I to get anything at all from my involvement? But I suppose we artists have so much free time to just whip up something fabulous for every occasion. Each stipulation imposed on an artists donation is a joke. (Size, color, theme...)
But to return to my original stream of thought: art doesn't just happen. We are not like spigots that can be turned on and off at will. Some days the well is very dry indeed! Studio time is frequently at a premium, and there are so many things tugging at us in so many directions. I know that I (and many other artists) would love to help out (sometimes!) but there has to be a return. No one asks dentists or carpet salesmen to donate things on a daily basis, but some how artists are targets. I realize that the lure of intangible rewards is dangled in front of our noses; those hard to figure benefits like, "You'll attract new collectors" or, "You'll make new contacts" or, "You'll reach a new audience" seem possible. We all spend a lot of time making and framing and delivering work (that quite possibly we'd never have made without this coercion) and then get told we have a day to pick it up when it doesn't sell. Artists all have drawers full of aberrant works that aren't really ours: we did for a cause and now we don't know what to do with these a-typical pieces.
And maybe if you're fortunate enough to be an artist who works in multiples (such as print makers or photographers) this is an easier thing to do. You simply run another edition or get another print made, but for peoples making originals, it's way to much work. There is also the very real possibility that the piece you set out to make doesn't work and  simply wind up wasting time and making a mess. Don't forget that everyone always demands your "newest and best" work!
I think I'm rankling the most from the misguided perception that artists are simply art producing machines. We're cranking out art at so many parts per hour and more than happy to share that wealth of resource. It's exhausting. It's unrealistic. We're not factories!

Green Snow and Other Visions of Spring

Yes, we repeated an old trick and sprayed our snow green. That was to celebrate brave friends who struggled through cold and the winter doldrums to eat and make merry last night. This morning. fresh snow had already obscured my pseudo-shrubbery...
Spring should be here soon. The light has definitely changed and the days seem to be lengthening and I see small harbingers on my walk. Jules and I spotted a very confused looking chipmunk running around on top of the snow. But did I mention that it's snowing again? (And more predicted for Tuesday into Wednesday? Egads!) I also saw a skunk and a herd of deer and Jules thinks something awfully interesting has been peeing in the snow on our walk.
Four days or so later and guess what? My good friend Wasil is NOT coming to Connecticut because of weather. I give up! I can't say I blame him as there is significant icing and we got stuck in our driveway two times today. The proverbial luge run! At least I don't need to worry about cleaning the downstairs bathroom.
Both Bob and I admit to deadened brains and few thoughts- original or otherwise. You know what? You can skip reading this until the my next post. I apologize for being cold and dense. But I promise my next blog posting returns to the lively discussion of artists and the vagaries of the art world. Yes, we venture back to Brooklyn tomorrow afternoon, to entertain the masses of art fair goers that are being lured to the 'hood in search of fine art!