2002-09-08 - 10:30 p.m.
Despite the fact that it was at least 96 degrees outside this weekend, I gave in to the temptation to wander down to the art fair, set up in the small business/ entertainment district near where I live. Mainly because I keep trying to think of things to do that will get me out of the house now that it is made considerably smaller by stacks of cardboard cartons (the notebook project that will live in infamy). I have kind of a love/hate relationship with art fairs, and I don't know what I expect, but it is never what is there.
There is the guy who always does the detailed watercolors of the old brick walls. And the one who does the fantasy pen and ink drawings. There is Mr. Oil Paintings of the Old West. And Ms. Floral Arrangements in Pastel. All the usual characters in the art show circuit, sitting on their folding chairs in their name badges, looking bored and hot.
For a long time, I thought being able to sell your work at an art fair was something to which I should aspire. These folks are, after all, making a living or at least making money on their art, and that was more than I could say for myself. But after being an observer of the scene for a long time, I can tell what it takes to succeed. You have to latch on to ONE THING and repeat it, make it your trademark, make it who you are. This is true of the larger art world as well, but especially true for the art show crowd, because you are truly dealing in product.So as soon as you find an idea that will sell, you have to be able to churn out endless duplicates.
The artists display their wares and the people roam in and out, fingering things, sniffing, commenting. I saw two women trying to match a painting to a sample of upholstery fabric. Choosing a painting to match the couch. I saw a couple trying to "custom-order" a painting in a different color. It is basically about people producing and consuming products, except that it takes place in tents in the middle of the street.
I'm disappointed in the art world. But what could I possibly expect from our consumer-based society? I am definitely the one who is out of step, still thinking that Art (with a capital A) should be about what is inside the artist, the expression of an obsession, a curiosity, a sense of wonder. And if that is the source of art, how can an artist do the same thing again and again, after the problems are all solved and the statement made?
I once read an article in the New Yorker that said, basically, there were only three things you needed to do to be a successful artist: wear a lot of black, drink a lot, and find one damn thing--no matter how trivial-- and stick to it. I laughed, but only with a distinct sense of recognition. The first two qualifications come pretty easy-- I mastered the art of wearing black and drinking years ago. But the third has always been my downfall as an artist. When I was graduating from college with my art degree, I had to have a one-person senior show that would represent the direction of my work (my one damn thing). In that year, working to meet and exceed those requirements, I developed a series of hard-edged surrealistic paintings done in colored ink with an airbrush. Everyone loved them. I even sold some. And I never did another one after that show was over. In my own mind, I had solved the problems that I set out to solve in that particular medium, and I wanted to try something new.
I have had plenty of chances to stick to one thing, and I used to always be trying to make it happen. Every time I tried something new that thrilled me, I would think, "This is it! I've found it! This will be my thing!" Just like Elizabeth Taylor choosing husbands, I wanted to believe that all my previous experience had led me to this culminating relationship with my talent. I would stop searching and just produce in bliss. When I devote myself to a particular process or medium, I can usually get to a level of mastery that would justify setting up a tent. But I always quit before I go that far. Because something else catches my eye. I start getting a little bored, having trouble getting to work, resenting people who are demanding special things.
Part of the thrill of art for me is to see if I can do something that I envision, and the other part is the joy of playing with art supplies. I have accepted the fact that I will never garner fame for my work. And probably not much money, either, because it is hard to sell something you care about.
This weekend I started on a portrait of my son, in pencil on smooth white paper. I have been doing bright, abstract collage things recently, and I just suddenly had an urge to do something so precise and careful as a portrait. I was in the mood to labor over details and enjoy the challenge of catching the spark of likeness.
The true confessions of an Art Slut: I just can't stay faithful to any one thing. At some point I just gave up and decided it had to be okay.There are already so many limitations in life, I can never justify imposing them arbitrarily on myself, just to appear consistent. Being consistent is highly over-rated, anyway.
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