Better In Person

Dear Art Lover,

Recently I had someone from the art world over to my studio to look at potential pieces for an upcoming fundraising auction.  As we went over the work in person, I was able to see the piece in a new light, from the perspective of someone else seeing a body of work for the first time.

Among many generous words this person shared with me, one idea stood out.  It is a thesis I’ve often shared with audiences, and even in applications to grants, residences, and shows.  When a jury or a panel is deciding based on my work to give an award, accept my work into a competition, or grant me a funded residency or other experience, they are not actually seeing my work.  They are seeing a digital image of my work, in a best case scenario from a projector, on a wall or screen at a large scale.  At worst, they are sifting through piled printouts, or looking at the painting through a (art-gods-willing) laptop screen, or worse yet a phone screen.  The context is changed, the work is degraded, and the actual work, the 40 x 60” or 30 x 42” sheets of thick 400 or 300 lb watercolor paper, illuminated by bright track lighting or fierce daylight, is never seen, until (if accepted) the show itself.

The idea we agreed on was that my work is “better in person.”  To understand a large-scale plein air watercolor painting, or, I’d argue, any original work of art, there can be no substitute for seeing the work itself, in the flesh.

I am reminded of my visit to the Gardner Museum in Boston this past summer.  I was there specifically to seek out the watercolor work of favorite artist John Singer Sargent, to see some of  his plein air watercolors on paper that I’d not experienced since seeing them at the Seattle Art Museum in 2001.  I found the room with his watercolors, dimly lit, and excitedly cozied up to one.  I looked… it seemed a bit… flat.  I looked closer and could see the pattern of tiny dots, characteristic of a reproduction.  Yes, I was sure of it… this was not the original.  I sought out the docent in the room and asked if any of the paintings here were reproductions… “some of them…” he said.  I looked closely and couldn’t find a single original Sargent watercolor.  Often museums will not show the more delicate specimens of their collections, artifacts that are especially sensitive to light such as drawings, watercolors, other works on paper, showing reproductions instead.  Maybe I’d just come on an off day, but this was devastating, especially given that I couldn’t get my $20 back.  Nothing against the Gardner Museum - wonderful building and a fun visit, many masterpieces… just not the ones I’d come to soak in.  I wasn’t seeing the work itself.  I went next door to the MFA and stumbled onto the Hokusai exhibit (coincidentally now on view at the Seattle Art Museum until January 21st).

If you have not yet been to “Hokusai: Inspiration and Influence”, and you are in the Seattle area - make time for it.  The Hokusai exhibit is the second best art exhibit I’ve ever seen, second only to the SAM’s 2001 Sargent exhibit.  I’ve written about this show before, and even created a section of my website to highlight my favorite work from the show alongside my own work which approaches similar subjects and themes.  Very likely I’ll be going again before close.

As I wrap the week’s various applications (9 this week), I think of the work that lays before the juries, or the experience of my audience on this email list, approaching my work from their phone, their laptop, virtually, almost never in person.  In a few hours (of writing this) I’ll be at a show opening featuring one of my 30 x 42” plein air watercolor paintings.  I look forward to meeting people who’ve never seen my work before - to hear their reactions and thoughts, and to enter into conversation about what kinds of artwork they enjoy, and what brings them to the opening.  I’m grateful to this gallery (Collective Visions Gallery in Bremerton) and their efforts to give artists the chance to share their work, in person, with the public.  I think of some of the conversations I was a part of this week discussing the pros and cons of an “in-person” show vs an “online show”.

As of a few months ago, I seldom enter “online shows”, because, to me, there is no value I seek from that participatory experience.  Yes, entering an “online show” is more convenient for both the “show” host organization and the artist… but what is the outcome?  What is the benefit?  Is the benefit that the artist gets to put on their CV they were in a show?  Is the benefit that the organization gets to collect entry fees?  Is the benefit that the public gets to see work they might otherwise not?  I’m not sure.  There is some irony in my attitudes to this, as I am currently volunteering my time as chair of an “online exhibition”.  I raised my hand to see for myself what interacting with the arts in this manor would look like.

I believe one of the reasons given for this and other shows to go “online” is that “it’s easier to do”.  I question - is convenience, ease, or lack of work a good reason to change strategic direction?  If I directed my own art practice towards what’s easier to do, for example, I’d still be making only 18 x 24” or 12 x 16” watercolors at the largest, with tight graphite underdrawings, indoors, from photos, in painstakingly time-consuming fashion, using many transparent washes.  I would never have gone to Santa Fe to learn how to work in oil and see optically.  My vision would still be very limited without that training.  I would very likely still maintain a social media presence, the convenience of the format substituting the relentless updating I make as someone who makes their own website.  I’d probably not be applying to the opportunities I am, sometimes having to make new portfolios, essays, even resumes for each one.  To give context, the total hours spent on the 9 applications I filled out this week probably took 20-25 hours, at least.  As I’ve mentioned previously, I no longer track business hours, it’s too intimidating.

In the thank-you notes I write, I changed my language this winter from the standard “thank you for supporting the arts” to “thank you for investing in the arts” because I value investment.  I value things that are hard to do, just for the sake of practicing doing hard things.  The skillset it takes to do something hard, for a long time, repeatedly, isn’t that varied from task to task.  I want to improve at my plein air watercolor painting… so I get outside and do it, a lot, year-round.  Too much time spent strategizing or planing ends up being counter-productive, I find.  Better to jump in and begin immediately, to have a starting point before trying to abstractly plan for end points.  Planning is fairly easy to do, and I do have a place for that in my practice, but the majority investment comes in time, in energy, in additional resources thrown at upgrading equipment or experiences: the much harder, on-the-ground real-time doing-of-the-task.

When a client buys work, or a gallery hangs work, those are investments, acts taking place in the real world.  The virtual world, be it a show, a social media connection, a website, a phone picture, can offer stand-in glimpses but will never (in my memory, dreams, or social fabric) compete with the equivalent experience in reality.  Even these emails… which are marketing, lectures, thoughts, reflections and updates, are far cries from the nourishment of conversation, in-person, face to face.  A wonderful, nourishing face-to-face conversation is an investment in time and energy, and takes place in my whole body, not just my distracted mind and restless moods, training to squint at a phone screen.

Over the past few months - a thank-you to all of you who have been reaching out in various ways to tell me you enjoy these emails.  Thank you, also, to anyone who has been recommending this list to your networks - as I figure out how to scale approaching new audiences.  Please encourage anyone you think might enjoy some art-related reading to visit my website and sign up with their email.

Cheers,

David