Notes from an obsessive/compulsive butterfly

Jus’ sayin’

If Barack Obama were an artist, as of today he would no longer be eligible for the Turner Prize. Age limits in art is a dumb idea.

This is disgusting:

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A little discussion started on Twitter the other evening (impossible to do anything other than gloss over in 140 characters or less), prompted by Emily Speed, to do with when does an artist stop being ’emerging’ and become ‘established’. Good question, and unresolved. Any thoughts from anyone?

Susan Francis half-jokingly said she is ‘re-emerging’. We all agreed this would be great for her statement. This prompted further discussion about age limitations imposed willy-nilly by institutions, open submissions, funding organisations etc. I ranted about the Turner Prize here on A-N back in December, because there is NO justification for an age limit here in particular. The problem is this: many artists start late.

Quoting myself: “Questioning this arbitrary limit, I looked into the reasons for it. The website states “There was no age limit at first, but in 1991 it was decided to restrict the Prize to artists under fifty, so that younger artists just setting out weren’t pitted against artists at the height of their careers”.

This is laudable, but it is not exactly joined-up thinking, is it? It assumes, wholly incorrectly, that all artists start their careers at a young age. I would think that a quick glance around every single art education institution in the country will quickly prove the need to repudiate this misjudgement. Furthermore, many, many artists are obliged to put their careers on hold for all kinds of perfectly legitimate reasons. Raising a family, to name but one. The latter inevitably increases the weighting in favour of young males. In fact, if we extrapolate perceptions of the effects of tuition fees, weighting will become in favour of young, white, middle-class males. Oops.”

I am very much in favour of anything that can help emerging artists along their way. Yet all of us involved in this conversation are precluded from entering any number of things because of being over 30 or whatever. Age discrimination is against the law in employment, training and education, isn’t it? Once again, I call for a better way of defining the parameters. It may take a little more effort on the part of organisers in verifying the CVs of selected applicants, but how about a maximum total career length of say 5 years? Anyone?

I have had my head down for a while working on a new body of work, so I haven’t been around much. I have been on the verge of writing a few times, and ranting about something-or-other often, but let the rants pass. Probably better that way – after a while the rants mollify into observations….

Twitter sometimes feels like being in a room full of strangers at a bad party: everyone is talking loudly at the same time, but no-one is listening to anyone else. Occasionally though, someone overhears your little voice above the throng, and is interested in what you have to say.

I have to say I get very irritated by the followers that drop off if I don’t immediately follow back. As far as I am concerned it is quality, not quantity that counts. What is the point of a Far East handbag manufacturer following me, and vice versa?

A big bonus is slowly building a network of interesting new artists – and their work – which I may not have encountered otherwise. Use Twitter as a tool, not if you are being a tool. Ahem.

Artspam

Like everyone else I get a fair amount of emails through my website from outfits that turn out to be vanity galleries and suchlike. This one gets a special award for a better opening gambit than most:

Dear Phil,

Just discovered your work for the first time to my shame. It’s beautiful, I love what you do, big fan!

I try to keep an eye on what works for me, so I’m a proper stats geek where my website is concerned. I was able to trace this particular email from a visit to my home page which then went straight to the ‘contact me’ page. Didn’t even glance at the portfolio. Cynical. I could have given them the benefit of the doubt that they saw my work elsewhere and fell in love with it …. except that no-one ever describes my work as beautiful. Not even me. Tsk.

Incidentally, one of the other ‘regulars’ is going out with renewed vigour (two, from two different writers in the same organisation, a couple of days apart): Dear Phil, I stumbled across your art on the XYZ website and was really impressed…. and: Hi there, (couldn’t even be arsed to type my name) I stumbled across your art on the XYZ website and was really impressed…. Tsk.

Out of the mouths of babies

I was very interested in what Susan Francis had to say about children and their relationship with (our world of) art. I have been to a few PVs and exhibitions in France lately, and I have noticed that there are many more children present than I would expect to see back in England. Just two points really, because I don’t know if there is a substantive correlation (or how art is treated in the French education system, or indeed if it is just my imagination): firstly, I have an impression that the French public are more comfortable with contemporary art, if not more critically engaged, than their English counterparts. Secondly, the children seem less disengaged. Any views on this?

I decided to get stuck in to tidying the studio. I have been putting it off. It is a small space, and I realised that a gradual accumulation of piles of papers, work notes, materials samples and books, had left no room to work. None. I had, on occasions, resorted to pushing the computer keyboard out of the way for a space to draw. So a tidy studio could be a good start.

The new works are going well. I have set up a little production line with tiny pots of enamels for another work, and I’m experimenting with materials. I’m also using an electric drill to help me apply paint – different. I have been colour-correcting photographs of some completed works (why do some works photograph very badly and others exceptionally well?).

Read the instructions and check the date. I found myself rushing to get an application in on Monday. Earlier in the day I had realised that I had been referring to the date on my watch which was three days out (cheers, February), then, thanks to a friend, found out the deadline was the 7th, not the 10th as I had thought. Duh.

I have been reassessing some of the works in progress and ideas still in the sketchbook. The work is occupying an uneasy place between the made and the conceptual – an unease which is intentional – I just want to clarify where I am. This morning, for no particular reason, I walked at the exact point where the beach meets the sea. Wet sand – neither land nor water. This suggested a sense of uncertainty, and it struck me that perhaps it is no bad thing. One side or the other could lead to complacency, which could lead to, well, nowhere. The struggle has value. Besides, it’s exciting. Waves were washing in and out, and my feet got wet.