This is the first part of a five-part series, released M-F this week, called “Artist’s Talk”.  Enjoy - and please share with anyone you think would enjoy this piece and others like it, and encourage them to sign up with their email to receive the newsletter themselves.  Onto…

Artist’s Talk: Part 1 - The Pretender

Writing 1.24.24 Weds

I’ve just driven home in the rain, listening to Jackson Browne’s solo acoustic live version of “The Pretender”, over and over, one of my favorite songs.

I was singing the song to myself, radio off, and thinking about how meaningful and beautiful this song has been to me since high school.  I was young enough when I first heard it to instantly recognize that this would be a favorite song of mine likely for life, and to also know that I couldn’t viscerally relate to the lyrics, not yet, anyways.  I could empathize with the subjects he covers, but not identify with them.

Putting it on, I tried singing along with the song, but I failed - my voice gave out, it was suddenly more moving than it had been previously.

Perhaps I’m a bit emotional because we are in the darker times of January in Seattle, or maybe it was because I’d just come from listening to someone speak about their son and his on-again off-again love of making artwork, visual arts and drawing, dance, or even video game design.  It made me think of my own work, my own life, where I am at, and how does that mingle and align with or fall short of my dreams.

As I listened again to Jackson Browne’s lyrics, the house rented “in the shade of the freeway”, the lunch packed in the morning, the “struggle for the legal tender”… each line cut to the core of me, to a truth I wasn’t aware of, and didn’t have words for, until now.  At the same time, the realization was cathartic, expressive and necessary, and in a more practical sense, I knew I’d be able to come home (to work) and write it out, everything that has been going on, why this song struck me so, why it always has.

A thought experiment I’d like to run: I’ve been given a green light to have a solo show at the Met, immediately, with all my recent and best work.  In that case (which is, in reality, somewhere between a long ways off and never, but it’s my fantasy), the work itself is ready enough.  I believe in what I’m making; I believe it’s valuable, ready to be shared, to meet public audiences.  This fantasy is not all rosy - as part of the opening, I’ve been asked to give an artist’s talk, a presentation of 45 minutes to an hour, to conceptually frame what I’ve been up to in the art making.  If such an ask were to come today, due tomorrow, I’d be a bit intimidate, knowing that what I’d have to say about the work, while not frighteningly bad, is not currently at “Met-Level”.  One reason I’ve been so frequently sending out these emails is a preparatory exercise of being able to write about my art, to (one day) be ready for such an opportunity, should it ever come.  Anyone ready for a challenge is usually animated by their endless previous preparations made alone in the dark.

One of the reasons I’d be a bit insecure about giving such a talk tomorrow, would be that it’s not something that anyone has so far challenged me to do.  There has been no such occasion to rise to, no such pressure to defend or advocate or illustrate from a more art historical, conceptual perspective, what I make, the how, the why.  Another reason why I don’t consider myself “ready” - often the true reasons for my actions in art are hidden from me until well after I’ve made them and nearly forgotten them.  I can’t say that everything I draw and paint adheres to some larger, grander, “important” scheme where it all makes sense, it’s all justified, it’s all “good”.  This simply isn’t true.  What was unclear to me, until just a few minutes ago, listening to “The Pretender” on repeat in the rain, are some truths or at least interpretations of my most recent work, the truths of what it means to me, what I am trying to communicate within the work itself.

Of course, if you see one of my paintings, I don’t believe you need me to tell you about it, or anyone to, to appreciate what it is, or to decide for yourself whether it is valuable to you, or not, and why.  Jackson Browne doesn’t need to personally write me a letter to let me know what he was thinking about or going through when he wrote “The Pretender” for it to resonate perfectly with my own experiences and emotions.  It is a masterful work of art, and generally, masterful works of art find a lot of traction with a lot of people who have been through similar experiences.  We’re not so different.  We don’t need personal letters to know this - art will suffice.

Back to my fantasy scenario, giving an artist’s talk at the Met.  I now have to get up (likely black tie) in front of a room of celebrities, art world higher-ups, collectors, luminaries, artists, etc, in Manhattan, at my favorite museum.  I see the task as unnecessary, maybe, but it can help to frame my work - I can write a personal letter to the audience, to give them a chance to understand my art beyond just what it looks like, to satisfy their thirst for importance, for relevance, for the answer to “why is this here?”

So, this is that letter.

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Thank you for reading “Artist’s Talk: Part 1 - The Pretender," and for your questions and comments about this newsletter and my work.  You are welcome to email me any time at David@DavidOSmithArtist.com, or simply reply to this email.  If you enjoyed reading this, I encourage you to share it with your networks, and to enogucarge them to sign up with their email to receive my newsletter, the best way to stay up to date with my artwork.

Tomorrow: Artist’s Talk: Part 2 - A Most Intimidating Dream