Tumbling chaotically head first into the world of social media is one thing. But exposing an artwork publicly whilst it is in a state of continuing and possibly infinite development is a whole lot worse. What madness takes over when starting such a thing?
Exhibitions are usually clearly contextualised, and however the art is judged or assessed, a well-articulated artist’s statement is usually a help. In twitterworld, however, contextualisation is bound by the 140 characters, and the little daily drawing has to make its own way out there. It stands and falls all by itself.
I want to be able to shriek out loud that’s it’s all just an experiment/a process/an intuitive something-or-other, and please not to judge before I’m ready to understand and give some sort of coherent statement. And of course, that can’t be done in 140 characters either, so I’m left in some anguish with my very public work-in-progress.
I’m also squirming at the narcissistic implications of the whole idea. I began with the aim of doing an iPhone drawing a day, and needed a subject, and the subject became me, although it could at the start have just as easily been an apple, I suppose. The intent was and remains to examine how my perceptions shift on a daily basis and how this is influenced or influences the app employed. But figures are important in my work, so why not me as a subject? But now I have a whole trail of ‘me’ images already posted, I am slightly shocked at the nature of the Pandora’s box I’ve opened. My comfort zone ideally involves my head in a broom cupboard. Maybe this is more important than I think; hiding in broom cupboards is not the way to develop an exciting art practice, and maybe this challenge to my introversion is the best thing I could be doing right now.
