Thought For The Day (just sayin’).

I’m 42. If I were going to live to the ripe age of 80, surpassing my dad by 11 years, I would be considered a middle aged man, yes? Now, mind you, I have only acquired parts and pieces of the old ‘white picket fence’ dream - and along the way haven’t had even .5 children, nor even any pets (except ‘Vaughn’ a rabbit who I sorta midwived for a few months to shelter her from a crazy bunch of fratsters). A great example is having my driver’s license ever since I was 16 years of age and never owning an automobile. And I’ve never smoked (for good measure). What’s this I’m blathering about? Well, as we assess things like the best of the year awards, our taxes and waistlines, artists are forever noted as “emerging”. Yes, an overused term in any idiom in fact. But I must say I have enjoyed this reference since around 1988 or so.

As I sit and watch the snow fall outside this window how could I not examine the very delicate moments life deals each of us. And in many ways I’m just getting started over, and over. So, the aforementioned word often feels applicable from my personal view, but when you’ve been at it for going on 23 years (including time in college, of course) there’s this balance between what’s earned, and what’s left best in the past. Yes, we move on no matter what our age. Artists persevere, often without adulation, harnessing whatever motivates the creative spirit in that moment - kind of like the snow falling where it wants.

As it goes on seven years since I first tilled this Northwestern soil, to consider a patch of it my ‘turf’ I think about the trials, tribulations and success of all things I involved myself in prior. The years of darkroom printing, site specific installations at museums and universities, the many full time jobs that stood in the way of my getting into the studio. I think about some of my original curatorial work that I still view as an art form in and of itself. Coming of age as a man in lean times (as well as through the big-haired latter 80s). Without getting too nostalgic, I look at it as a report card of sorts. And while some of these adventures make it into the latter gestations of this year’s curriculum vitae, as time passes, we become a glorified editor of the highlights of our lives.

That said, the concept of mid-career always seems vastly different to me. And just because of a tinge of salt and pepper at the temples doesn’t dictate anything other than something folicular for the most part. But after a solid yearus uninteruptus in le studio I’ve discovered so much more than settling on what mid career might actually mean. Well, for one, you can be the most successful artist for years in any genre, pick one - or live in an area that is lesser on the map, and be completely overlooked for your past work. There is this invisible threshold you must “crossover” into the right audience or venue - or by working with a particular curator, or just some lucky fluke. Most artists (including me) have to work extremely hard, and for many years, to get noticed in a way that may cause for a double take. And it’s not just because of our self-affacing attitude about what we do, it’s about letting go of much of what goes into the whole bit about self promotion. Yes, it takes mucho cahones (and a power-packed and readily available press kit and saavy representation) to get into the public eye sooner rather than later. I’ve known that for years, but the kick in the pants that was the Miami Beach art fairs sealed it in wax. But just what is its melting point, and flexibility level? That’s where finesse fits in.

If it sounds like I am just going on, it’s because I am. When you’ve earned a notch in your belt you will feel that glorious sense of expansion. But just make sure it was truly earned, and that it’s not simply hot air. And though I’ve yet to have any form of career retrospective (I wonder what would be included?), and I regularly feel I am working on new ideas, collaborations, series - there’s usually less time to actually assess, and only a perceived sense to produce in the studio. I’m compelled to be there every day, but usually clock in about 4-5 days a week. I tend to document most of what I do, because when you create either collaboratively, or you sell the work, or it is geared for something temporary (often my case in the past), a record is all you have. Sometimes that record is more exciting, or mythical than the actual physical work produced. I could site a handful of artists who firestarted their careers on past work, went into “early retirement” and fuel their everyday on this sort of myth, rather than the sweat equity it may take another. Do I fault that artist, never, they used the power of influence, and ingenuity to get there quicker. The only thing that this sort of artist needs to watch for is becoming a parody of themself. You know the breed I speak of?

The administration of your career often takes a chunk that cyclically feels like dead, lead weight. Especially when every grant you may apply for in any given year is rejected. It can either rupture your psyche time and again, or you can look at the whole thing like a lottery (especially when younger artists are taking home the gold). But alas, most career driven artists know the basic playing field, you just have to weather the changing climate. For me, I’m more in it because I made a vocational commitment long ago. I’m still learning and yearing - how “mid career” is that? Perhaps this is a cycle of constant emergence. And so what if it’s run like molasses? I did it my way.

This entry was posted on Friday, December 28th, 2007 at 12:31 am and is filed under Daily Grind. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.