What no final critique?
A three year Fine Art degree presents countless opportunities to talk about one’s work; with tutors, visiting artists, and one’s contemporaries, through tutorials, group critiques, and informal studio chats – all of which are invaluable to the development of one’s practice.
Then there’s the degree show, which we spend maybe a month or two planning for, and a week setting up (for ‘setting up’ read completely binning best laid plans in favour of some ill-considered version of rebellion, followed by a last minute reversion to the old plan). I heard that during the setting-up period there were tutors hovering around – nodding in agreement about the height of works being hung – smiling as they recognise the annual scramble for white paint, sandpaper, and electric screwdrivers – and staring blankly when they don’t want to say ‘Get that down, it looks terrible, and in no way represents you, your philosophy, or your practice.’ I say ‘I heard’ because during the entire setting-up period I was in the maternity ward at the RUH Bath, as the previous day my wife had gone into labour. The school granted me a three day extension, and I carried out my set-up in a single afternoon, alone in the space, tutorless.
So, I set up for the show without any tutorial negotiation. Working, as I do, with text, this show was my chance to show that over the last three years I have learned enough about presentation to absolutely nail this stuff. Whatever the weather, the content will out; regardless of medium, my areas of interest remain the same, but because I use text, the presentation is the key aspect of the work.
And I think I let myself down. There are many strands to my practice: there’s social networking, and its effects on the presentation of self; there’s the whole world’s obsession with nostalgia; there’s the tiny little phrases and incidents that sit around in my head for years before coming out as work; and there’s all the other stuff, filed under ‘other’. I tried to cram them all into the show, and I over filled it. My work is quite minimal, so perhaps that’s why the volume of work in there slipped by me without my noticing. I included a billboard, Elvis Lives, Some work, and a table with Cards and a new piece consisting of stacks of A4 paper with pages from my #alwayson series.
I’m not saying that had my wife and I timed our pregnancy better, things would have been different. That is an unknown. What I know is that my selection for the degree show would still have come from the same body of work, but maybe with a little more sleep and perhaps a week long extension, I might not have tried to put so much of it in there.
I plan on emailing my tutors about the show, and trying to grab that final tutorial, even if I have to wait until October to get it. I think I know where I went wrong, but it would be nice to have some proper feedback from the ones that are supposed to know for sure(ish).
That said; we now have a son, which puts the entire universe into perspective. All right, maybe not the entire universe, but Art, at least, has been given a swift hoof into the world of nothing to worry about.
For the time being.
