I was recently attending a conference in Indianapolis for sculptors, hosted by the National Sculpture Society. One of the events organized for us was a lecture on self-marketing, led by Rose Fredrick, a Denver-based art advisor, author and curator. She raised the point that an important question commonly fumbled over but is most often behind every initial awkward or misleading question to an artist in galleries and studios asks "why?"
Why do you do it the way you do when you make an artwork? Her point was simple and so important: people really want to hear your story. Too often I have led a curious person into the void of describing "how" I did something, which is shop talk that doesn't really captivate an average listener. Magicians don't talk about how they perform a magic act because they learned that would spoil the magic, and I think it's safe to assume most people would prefer to leave the magic of any artwork that way too. I have experienced this personally at art openings from both sides but couldn't see that this simple pivot from how to why might have pulled me out of several holes I would dig for myself asking or describing art processes, just because it's easy and I was feeling shy and this was the first thing that came out of my mouth. "Why" on the other hand is a deeper question that can open opportunities for personal reflection and storytelling to bridge both sides of the conversation.
Creating artworks for me, especially sculpture, is a conversation with myself about what I have seen in others, what I have felt in myself, and how I have interpreted a historical artifact that somehow indirectly or directly relates to what I'm thinking about, so it's literally putting my thoughts through filters of memory and perspective into physical forms. I will try to unpack this as best as I can.
From very early on I made a decision to represent my subject in a way that best represented me somehow in the form. My perspective, for good and bad, is that of a white North American male with the palette of shortcomings and sensitivities I am equipt with. It is intentionally about my way of seeing my subject, not simply representing what my subject looks like, if you follow me. I was drawn to art making because it allowed me to express myself in ways that I could not in words. My process today still relies on my intuition leading me through a creation, and the words to comprehend the work come later. Understanding comes through the creative process, not before it. If I already understood my subject, I wouldn't devote the time to making art about it.
A lot of the information I collect researching an artwork in my studio comes from watching and engaging with living people, either in motion or statically in private, internalized moments. Since I am passionate about sculpture, my practice is predominantly done with physical objects. If you have spent most of your life thinking that communication is done either in writing, film or by mouth, then it may be difficult to think that it can also be done through a static physical object. Just consider it while standing in front of a sculpture, not a photograph of a sculpture, but an actual one and see what happens. Good art, especially in sculpture, can be a puzzle that your mind moves through and around, and may get ruffled over by something you don't immediately understand. For me, these experiences lead to problem-solving the artwork; getting to know it, understand or translate it. The process of figuring the artwork out sometimes triggers an upthrow of memories and associations as your brain sorts out what is "familiar" about it. Bookmark that experience and see if you return to it differently. When you meet the artist, you might share the memory-bridge (s) you had with the artwork. That little bit of personal exposure is a good icebreaker and always welcomed. We can all gain something from sharing our experiences and finding common ground, especially these days.
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