Kitchen, 36 x 36 inches, acrylic & oil on canvas, ©2007 Deidre Adams
Last Friday was the first day of my last semester in the BFA program at Metro. I’m only taking one class:
ART 4701 – Snr Exp Studio: Portfolio Devl
This studio course requires the student to present finished work in a senior thesis show, produce a slide and/or CD portfolio, and write a concise statement about the intention, and methodology of producing the body of work. This effort will result in the production of a body of work as well as an introduction to the profession of the studio artist.
AKA “BFA Thesis & Portfolio,” this is the class where we wrap it all up, tying together everything we’ve learned, and get pushed out of the nest to sink or swim. (Sorry – couldn’t resist the mixed metaphor.) A major effort of the class involves figuring out what our art is about so that we can write our BFA thesis statements.
By now, it seems we are expected to have settled on a particular media and theme that we want to pursue to the exclusion of all others. This idea is reinforced by the art world in general and the gallery system in particular: once you become known for doing a particular thing, major changes to your style and methods are done at your own peril. Society likes to be able to neatly categorize things, and if you want to sell your work, you need to figure out which box you can be put into.
For me, this whole system is fraught with angst. I’m interested in a wide range of themes — place, time, language, politics, social issues, technology — and I love working with different media — textiles, painting, photography, printmaking, and collage. If I had to choose just one from each column and work only in that way for the rest of my life, it would seriously curtail my interest in making art.
A long time ago, during the course of earning my first degree, I remember learning about the concept of “opportunity cost” — probably in Econ 101 or some other finance-oriented class. Opportunity cost is “The cost of an alternative that must be forgone in order to pursue a certain action. Put another way, the benefits you could have received by taking an alternative action” (Investopedia). It applies to investing because by choosing to put your money into one stock, you have an associated opportunity cost, which is giving up the chance to make money by investing in something else. The idea really struck me, I suppose, because it occurs to me frequently when thinking about what kind of art I want to be making. For instance, if I choose to work on paintings on panels, the opportunity cost is the time I could have spent making textile work. (Or time I could have spent working on my web site or pursuing exhibition opportunities … but I guess I shouldn’t muddy the waters too much.) The opportunity cost of writing this blog post is the time I should be using to complete my assignment that’s due in class tomorrow.
Last night the idea hit me again vividly when I was making salads for dinner.
When I cut into this beautifully formed Roma tomato, I had a strong, visceral impulse: I wanted to immediately drop everything I was doing and start working on a series of huge, close-focus paintings of sliced vegetables. But my inner arbiter of common sense quickly intervened and reminded me that that would be utterly ridiculous. There would be a huge opportunity cost associated with that: I’d be giving up all the time I need to work on the things I’m currently doing.
That’s been one of the very enjoyable luxuries of school — freedom to experiment and try lots of different things without having to feel that I was giving up something. The painting at the top of this post is a good example. It was done in my Painting II class in 2007. I don’t remember exactly what the assignment was, but I know it had something to do with interiors and Cubism. I remember that I enjoyed making this painting immensely, and I would love to make several more in a series of them. But would it really make sense to do that when I also have a strong desire to make more textile work, and in fact have started on a new series in that medum? And when I am simultaneously thinking about my Resonant State series, which was to have been the work for my BFA thesis? (I say “was to have been” because now I’m wavering once again about whether I should really try to incorporate textile work into my thesis.)
Thank goodness we’re doing all this contemplation and introspection in class. I’m more confused than ever.
Excellent post. I try to offset “opportunity cost” temptations by reminding myself to focus. I use the word “clarity.” I’ve found, though, that you gotta forgive yourself when you get sidetracked. 🙂
Until your last paragraph, I assumed your thesis work would contain fabric work! It is such a part of what you do so well, and seems to consolidate a lot of the techniques you like – how can you not?
Rebecca, that’s a good idea. I do continually tell myself to “focus,” oftentimes even out loud (picture crazy old lady muttering to herself), but I lack the mind control of even a common squirrel. I blame the Internet.
Lee, that’s a good question – how can I not? In the program I’m in, it’s very important to be able to explain the concept of what you’re doing. I wanted to stretch myself and not just keep doing the things I’ve been doing for years, so I came up with a concept and tried some new things with a lot of handwork in them. These turned out to be too time-intensive to finish up by the deadlines imposed, though. So I turned to paintings, which I enjoyed with equal enthusiasm. I’m still thinking about what I will do for my thesis. Tick, tock.
Last year, the “New Museum” in NYC featured 15 (or so) emerging artists. What I found so refreshing is that all of them worked in multiple mediums. No matter how “MFA” programs try to put you into a box — resist! Just think of how our methods of communication with the world has changed over the last 10 years. Artists who want their thoughts and feelings to reach a broad range of people must also change as the “market” changes.
I am still in awe that you are close to accomplishing your degree. Lots of hard work and putting yourself on the line is never easy. Go girl!
Hi Deidre:
While it is true the art world tends to compartmentalize its denizens, your talents are too far ranging to be stuck in one genre for long.
I think Evan Hunter had the solution for this problem: As a writer, he went by his own name for such 1960s novels and movies as “tranger When We Meet,” “The Young Savages,” and “The Birds.”
Yet, there lurked within him a hard-boiled crime novelist. Since he struck a different tone in those books, he went by the pseudonym of Ed McBain for that series of novels.
This is not far different from what Stephen King did in the 1970s, writing pulp novels under the name of Richard Bachman.
Your name is your “brand.” No reason in the world you can’t have more than one brand to diversify your artistic production.
Hi, Carol. Thanks for the encouragement! But I do want to make one clarification: It’s not the school program (by the way, I’m in a BFA program, not MFA) that’s doing the compartmentalization. On the contrary, we are highly encouraged to explore and stretch. I meant to say that it is the gallery system and the art world that do this. When an artist becomes known for doing a particular thing, and galleries know they can sell it successfully, they don’t want any disruptions in the flow.
Robert, I love this idea. I’ve always wanted to create another personality for myself, one where I can make up who I am, maybe be exciting and flamboyant, instead of shy and mousy. But what do I do if I have to go to an opening and somebody recognizes me, and in a terribly deflating encounter, says “Oh, it’s only you!”
That poses a good question, since exhibiting artists have to show up at their own openings. Of course, you could always spoof everyone by sending out some performance artist to be your “other you” at these exhibits.
On the other hand, you can always pitch both your artistic selves as “Deidre Adams,” but exhibit in different artistic circles. Start a new career purely as a painter, sculptor, whatever, and don’t include your textile mixed media stuff in your resume, and vice versa. One day, when you strike it big, you can merge your bifurcated self! 🙂
what a relevant post! I was just commenting about this very issue with another artist online this am. though people do like to pigeon hole artists, i think it is our nature to want to explore, grow and change. evolution is normal. just create what you want and the collectors will follow… nice blog!