Have you ever heard an artist not complain about having to write an artist’s statement? Neither have I. Why? Because artists statements are a pain in the rear to write, that’s why. They are supposed to provide insight into what motivates the work, artistic approach, etc., but can end up sounding convoluted, confusing, pretentious, and in the process obscure and mystify rather than enlighten anything. For many, writing an artists statement is already compromised by the process of writing itself: a process many folks seem to see as an arduous interrogation that seeks to put forth a linear and propositional case that does little justice to artistic sensibility.
Yikes! you say, what a royal pain (Didn’t I say that already?) And yet, does writing an artist statement have to be like that always? Are we to believe that somehow artistic ethos remains forever nebulous in a locked box (thank you Al Gore!) residing in the farthest reaches of the heart? Along with Lewis Hines and Robert Frost (“You want me to say it worse?”), and in accord with the italian phrase “Tradutore Traditore” (Translator you’re a Traitor) must we believe that articulating artistic sensibility is at best folly, if not just impossible?
I don’t think so. I think we will always struggle to represent the contents of our mind. Sometimes we do better than at others, and some subjects lend themselves to far easier articulation. To be sure, there might very well be notions and experiences that are ineffable. In general however, I believe that we have the symbolic resources to shape meaning as best we can, and that the key lies in not thinking of this process as closed.
So, why bother with this? Well, primarily because I have often asked my students to write something similar to an artists statement. I think it is a good exercise. Here’s what I tell them, among other things:
Consider your artist statement an ongoing conversation, with yourself, with various publics, with your muse. And for goodness sake, don’t for once believe that the artist statement has to stand on its own: think of it as in dialogue with the art, an extension of the work and the experience. In other words, think of your artists’s statement not as somehow having to only explain with words or trying to bridge an inherent disconnect, but rather as artistic expression itself.
The question is how best to write an artists’s statement. Considering it part of our artistic process ought to remind us that it is not disconnected from our inspiration, and that the more we see it as split from us, the more it will suck to write. In terms of writing process basic critical sense applies:
- Keep your audience(s) in mind (you will have a diverse audience)
- Be specific and straightforward (in prose and purpose)
- Simplicity is good (is your artistic passion a jumble of crazy emotion and… stop. What do you want the audience to get from this extension of your work? Simply)
- Avoid jargon (my art is an extrusion of the phenomenological imperative of… Avoid such language like the plague unless absolutely needed for your thesis. Are you writing a thesis?)
- Write to express, not impress (what else remains to be said? You will impress with your clarity and directness)
- Use strong verbs and active voice (express confidence not diffidence, and energize the reader)
I don’t have any secrets to writing an artist’s statement. I make the same mistakes as anybody else, and I don’t write such statements frequently. I tend to write explanations of what, in very general terms, motivates my efforts. But I do ask students from time to time, to write such explanations as a way to practice looking deeply, to connect with what is it they are trying to express. I ask them to write as a way to clarify, early in the process, what might be getting jumbled up in their minds. I think that is a helpful exercise, even if, at the end, the struggle to express our artistic sensibilities continues. Why would we want that conversation to be over anyway?