New Show at Gallerie Kenmore and Open Studios

Now showing at Gallerie Kenmore is none other than my sister Cathy! Congratulations to Cathy on her two one-person shows! Not only is she the featured artist at Gallerie Kenmore, but her work is on display at the John Bryan Gallery in Farmington CT. Her drawings of cats continue to be stellar, capturing the true "cattiness" while using an economy of line. Brava!
Cathy's show leads quite nicely into today's sermon.
The phenomenon of the so-called "Open Studio" is much like the "Art Fair": they are suddenly everywhere, and both offer crash course overviews of just what is out there for aesthetic consumption. In full disclosure mode, I admit that I have personally taken part in a number of open studios and therefore have experienced this adventure from both sides.
Recently, Bob and I traveled to the Bushwick section of Brooklyn and braved somewhere between 75 to 100 studios, out of a potential 500 (plus). Bob and I have similar tastes and habits and have a sort of shorthand that allows us to see art at this break neck pace. If after 2 seconds of entering a space neither one of us is moving forward, being drawn deeper into the studio or gallery a brief flicker of eye contact is all that's needed to signal a speedy departure. We know what we're looking for and it's almost always immediately apparent- or not. I am certain that we occasionally miss works of quiet genius but mostly we conserve energy for more gripping fare.
I am relieved to announce to my non-New York based artist friends that (to my eye and mind) we have nothing to fear. I guess the suspicion is that work in New York must always be of a higher caliber, more challenging subject matter, more cutting edge... just more more. I am hereby reporting that we saw A LOT of painting, some good, some okay and some just plain peculiar. Fr'instance, who could have predicted that we'd see so much "classical" figurative work? I was nonplussed at just how much the nude (women in particular) occupied artist's time. Really. Lots of what I call "intestinal" painting abounded, too. That's work defined by large digestive-tract inspired squiggles and grace notes in pastelish tones. (The art fairs seem to celebrate this impulse, too.) And just as I remarked to Bob that we had seen almost no sculpture, we both realized that the three studios where we were the most engaged and liked the work the most were all sculptors.

(That's a gratuitous view of my studio table and a sneak peak of what I'm working on. Tons of minute letters...) And interestingly, we saw very little installation work or video! I guess nothing much that I would describe as "new media", except this one studio that we had to climb three flights of stairs to be met with a lack-lustre assemblage of a couple of oranges hung in a net within a geometric frame. Not very interesting and further into the studio (Bob had already exited) were to entirely self-absorbed young men (one probably the artist) deep in a private conversation with their backs to me and the other two people who had delved into the space. Apparently, behind a curtain in the corner was a video but absolutely nothing welcomed me and I exited! Artists: at least try and engage your audience! They're very hard to come by and may actually be collectors or gallery owners. As it is, Bob and I were further reinforced in our unfortunate assumption that 95% of the attendees to this Open Studios were artists. Very few dealers/collectors/art policy people in sight!

(Another interior shot of my studio). The other observation that I offer about all the studios and galleries and buildings that we visited was the smell. This was an unexpected experience. The studios- especially the interior ones- smelled almost impossibly of floor paint, newly coated walls, oil paint and it's accompanying solvents and human odors such as perfume, cologne and sweat. A few spaces had us retreating so fast that I couldn't even tell you what they were showing.
I also admit that I perused a few "Best of Open Studios" listings after the fact and we somehow hadn't seen any of them. I guess that's understandable when there are 500 or so spaces on display. No one offered us a list of must-sees before the Open Studios. And then there is the fact that all art work is subjective and what one viewer likes, the next one hates. That's art for you!
And the word that best summed up our overall experience? I called much of what we saw "apologetic" art. Colors were pale, gestures were tepid and there seemed a lack of conviction or just a sense of apologizing for it's existence. It's as if many of the artists felt less than convinced about their need to make or show work. I am sympathetic as being an artist isn't easy and lord knows there isn't a whole lot of support or love out there,( not to mention the constant hustle and push that frequently make other artists large pains in the asses. Don't get me started!) I came home feeling newly reinvigorated about my own direction and purpose. I feel GOOD about my work!

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?