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At this point of the year, when summer is a warm memory and autumn blurs into winter, I like to step back from active art making and turn my attention to mulling over what I’ve created this year. An evaluation if you will. I have a simple exercise that I’ve developed for myself that helps me filter through my creative output and determine the value of it.
Now, I know that value is a tricky word in the arts and since I’m a linguist geek, I think it’s worth studying the etymology to see if that aids our comprehension. The word can be traced back to the 13th century Old French value meaning "worth, price, moral worth; standing, reputation". I think that’s how many of us would understand the value of our art: What’s it worth financially? How much can I sell it for? What’s my position and reputation in the art world? But this definition feels too narrow for me, too reliant on what others think of me and my art. It suggests value can only be assigned by factors external to my practice and smacks of capitalist values wherein the artist is merely a worker and their art an asset that can be profited off.
The Latin valere “be strong, be well, be worth” draws its root from the Proto-Indo-European (basically the root of all European languages) wal- "to be strong”. I like this definition more: Value as strength, as wellness. When I hover a magnifying glass over my art, I’m assessing whether my practice is strong, whether it is healthy (well), and also whether it has made me strong and well throughout the year. What’s more, I can shift that magnifier beyond my practice and ask whether my art has made a value impact on folks beyond my studio. It’s a more holistic and nurturing way of assessing my practice than merely asking, "Did I sell anything?”
You may wonder, what’s the point of an assessment? Why bother reflecting on the year’s creative output? I think there are several useful consequences of understanding value, but primarily, if artists can’t find the value in their work then it’s really easy to not make it, and that devilish imp, procrastination, steps into the studio and pulls up a chair. If I’m clear on the value of my art - how it gives strength and wellness - to me, to family, to friends, to my community, to the wider world, then I feel energized and driven to create it. When I’m sure of the positive value of my artmaking, there is no option but to continue creating - I never question whether it’s worth my time, energy, money - but I can’t be clear about the value until I e-valu(e)-ate. It’s an action. My value as an artist is not something I feel intuitively, in fact the opposite is often true, and can’t be found by making more art. I have to put down the paint brush, pick up the journal and take myself through the exercises. The evaluation helps me care about my art, which sounds trite, but indifference is a dark well that I look down sometimes, and I don’t want to linger there for too long. I like Kiki Smith’s (she’s a multidisciplinary American-German artist) take on this:
People can get frustrated when they feel they deserve visibility or recognition for their work at a given moment. But society might not need it at that moment—it might never need it, or maybe it will need it a hundred years later. It can’t come from that. It has to come from just you needing to do it. You need to find what engages you in the process to sustain yourself. Most artists’ experience is of sitting at home, where nothing is going on and nobody could care less what you’re doing. You have to care about it yourself.
Someone whose value screams from their art is William Kentridge, and last week I had the pleasure of viewing his mega exhibition at the Royal Academy in London. Born in South Africa to a family of anti-apartheid lawyers, Kentridge’s work speaks to the ambiguity of his own position as a white South African and reflects the late apartheid and post-apartheid years. As an artist I was in awe of the scale of his charcoal drawings and loved the way his drawing practice informed his animations, sculpture and animatronics.
I always admire artists who really push their practices off the cliff of what seems “sensible”. So often I feel my art is weird, odd, could never be understood or valued (back to that word again!) outside of my studio. I find the vulnerability of being an artist alarming. When I share my art, I allow folks a glimpse of my strange ideas, my bizarre view of the world and myself, and I often feel naked - emotionally exposed. Seeing work such as Kentridge’s is vital to my wellbeing; it gives me confidence and strength and it emboldens me to push my own practice right to the edge of what might be considered acceptable, or palatable, in my own little niche. If I want to animate my self-portraits, why not? If I want to create work that is so huge it doesn’t even fit on a wall of my house, why not? If I want to talk about ecofeminism through angry portraiture, why not? As artists, we don’t push the discipline of art forward if we continually create work that is commercially viable, pleasing to the majority, or well within our own comfort levels. It’s our job to push folks out of their bubbles, to question what’s acceptable, and to keep asking the awkward questions.
Kentridge will never know how his artmaking has made a direct value impact on myself as an artist, but I’m sure he’s convinced of the value of his own artmaking. Maybe I should write him a little letter and mail it to the Royal Academy? This is one of the challenges with measuring value in the arts, it’s often not vocalized or it can take years for the impact of an arts project to filter through. As Kiki Smith reminded us, our work may not be needed by society at this moment, but we shouldn’t let that stop us, just look at Hilma af Klint’s art, for example.
I make art because it helps me understand the world around me. Art is my best friend, my doctor, my therapist. It’s a medicine and it’s a healing. Art is also a tool I wield to raise awareness of issues, to protest, to resist. Art is a language, a conversation, an argument sometimes, and my primary communication practice. If you want to know how I’m feeling, just take a look at my daily self-portrait. Art challenges me to be a better person. It’s academic, it’s research, it’s pragmatic, yet art is simultaneously passionate, spiritual, soulful. It’s a line I cast out to the world in the hope a few folks will nibble at the bait and be reeled back into my world so that I’m not alone.
Ultimately, art makes me strong and well, and this is its greatest value.
JC
Resources
If you’re interested in the evaluation practice I use, you can purchase the exercises below for $10. (When you click the button you’ll be taken to my Wild Creative Studio sales page. The evaluation is a 9-page pdf that you can print and fill in, or read and carry out the exercises in a journal.) If you ever did my Autumn Flow course, this is a re-write of one of the exercises, so you may already have this hidden in your inbox.
Read about Kiki Smith here: https://www.pacegallery.com/artists/kiki-smith/
The William Kentridge show runs at the Royal Academy until December 11th. Read about it here: https://www.royalacademy.org.uk/exhibition/william-kentridge
And watch one of Kentridge’s charcoal animations here:
Below are a couple of books I’ve read and recommend that speak to value and are useful for artists - click the image to be taken to Amazon to see full details.
This book by Nina Simon is a must-read for anyone running an arts org. Nina Simon is an American exhibition curator, writer, educator, and museum director. She is the founder of the non-profit organization OF/BY/FOR ALL and previously was the executive director of the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History. She’s a force for good.
A FINAL THOUGHT
One good habit I have is to screenshot any positive comments I receive on my Instagram feed and save them in a “feel good” folder that I can dip into whenever I’m wavering in confidence and need a little pick-me-up. The comments remind me of the value of my art to others.
MAY YOUR ART MAKE YOU STRONG AND WELL!
Until next time x
Thank you for another thoughtful and well executed piece of writing!