A couple of weeks ago I spent a full, entire week only going to my studio to work on my own work. I realised that this was the first time in my entire career that I had done this. I am 37. It is both a strange and not strange thing for a ‘professional’ artist like myself to say. Why have I never been able to do this before?
I think the TLDR here is everyone’s least favourite boogeyman: capitalism! I have to pay bills, and earn income to able to live and have the life that I want. At this point people might feel inclined to jump in and ask me why I’m not making enough money from my art practice to support myself… well, I don’t make enough of a stream of saleable work, and I am not of a level where I have gallery representation or enough of a profile to do so. Some years ago I went down the ‘productifying’ route for my work, and yeah, it was good for a time, but ultimately I made work I resented and didn’t feel like I was challenging myself beyond a need to churn things out because I was worried I would have a bare looking stall at events, or too many empty slots on my online shop. Some people find their niche of making their work saleable, well made, and authentic to them, but I didn’t. It’s a mode of supporting yourself, but I didn’t manage, or have the drive (?) to keep that going- so boo hoo back to the drawing board.
Like many artists I also teach but I don’t make regular enough hours for that to my the sole source of income for me, so inevitably I have a patchwork of freelance and zero hours contracts to keep things together (when it works). Like many, I also had a PT job during my time at art school, so didn’t even dedicate all my energies to my study back then. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had applied myself fully? I also find it funny that that is where my mind immediately goes- it must be some failing on my part- lack of motivation, dedication, talent, skill, when there are bigger, overarching influences that are out of my control. But equally between the ages of 18 and 22 you have a competing range of priorities that shape-shift continuously. We are preoccupied with establishing a new identity, socialising, building relationships… enjoying youth, as we should.
In amongst all this are things that are of my making and not. I chose to undertake an academic masters degree after graduating from art school, at a time when I was getting more opportunities as an artist. So I effectively pulled the plug on my own trajectory to do something I wanted to do, and felt would ultimately enhance my practice. But looking back I see that I ‘dropped the ball’ there, fell off the map and just well… fell off. With age I think, I’m glad I did that then because I couldn’t afford to do that now, and I had some great experiences and made friendships I wouldn’t trade for anything. But when I am reviewing my progress, or lack there of, I sometimes am tempted to file this under ‘master (lol) of my own destruction’.
I stopped making art properly between 2011 and 2013, and didn’t come back to producing work I felt was ‘me’ until 2016. I have written a lot about my use of collage as a way of finding my feet again, and I value that time, but I knew I couldn’t make that kind of work forever. I was always fighting in my own head with myself about going back to photographic work. It was scary because it was hard and I had nowhere to hide.
It’s a long and meandering road, being an artist, or just a human generally, and I look back and see a varied and strange path to where I am now. I couldn’t help but wonder if my art practice would have met even my own expectations if I had had more time to dedicate to it, or even more energy. For a while I tried to come to the studio in the morning and be *productive* before doing manual work in the afternoon and boy, did that not just really add to the sense of- wow this is not workinggggg.
I recognise more than ever that I need fairly specific conditions for my brain and body in order to be able to make the most of my time in the studio:
- Not feeling rushed (rushing there- bad, having to rush away- also bad)
- No overhanging obligation (a meeting, a deadline, anything I need to consciously remember)
- Nervous system feeling REGULATED.
I am pretty sure any artist reading this will be like, gurl that is not happening ever, and don’t I know it. We are always making do, cramming in, contorting our brains and bodies around obligations and demands and everything else, and if you manage to squeeze out a small piece of work, or focus your mind for a short time- that is golden. I need to check myself as well remembering that there are many, many frustrated artists who are denied any opportunity to work, because of life circumstances beyond their control. I have a studio I can come to. I have materials. I have goals in mind. This is very much a me problem but many artists will face it to different degrees- how do you survive? How do you keep making work? Does it matter? Should you keep going?
I sometimes think about what would happen if I just gave it all up, like I have tried, that’s enough now. I guess it depends what I was expecting my life to look like. I have painted (sorry) myself into a corner with my skillset and experience and can’t really imagine what kind of ‘regular’ job would suit me, which is why I frequently undertake manual work. On the face of it I have made myself fantastically unemployable to the general labour market. I could start thinking about ‘transferable skills’ but I want to make it through the day… or maybe rEtRaIn In CyBeR.
When I have thought about writing about this previously I just feel like, it’s whiny etc, no one cares about your self made problem. But I also think it points to bigger problems that we all face, that of the role of work and ceaseless productivity drive inherent in much of modern Western life, the cost of living, and how we find and make meaning in our lives. I chose to live like this and I bear the consequences of my choices, but you can’t blame a girl for trying.
I think the real root of the problem is my own level of expectation for myself and my practice, the vision I hold somewhere in my head, which gets vaguer over time, of what ‘success’ would look like for me. I often need to zoom out. Sometimes what keeps me going is the idea that art, and art making, have value, and enhance our lives and experience of the world. That maybe my art speaks to someone and they feel seen and understood, intrigued or provoked, in the way that artworks have infiltrated my own consciousness.
Ultimately I feel like there is something about giving up that feels larger than just a shift in occupation for me. I am not planning on doing so in the immediate future but I am unsure when I will next have the opportunity to spend an entire week in my studio.
It is not yet time to abandon all hope.
DRAFT EXCLUDER 