Please read post 3 first. Otherwise this is gibberish. Or maybe it's gibberish anyway.
I would like to believe in my head that funding for art practices and students and the rest of the gang is worthwhile because we are advanced society to some unknown higher plane, you know, like, helping them grow and stuff? But then the realist in me reads in the Guardian (champagne socialism anyone?) that we're facing the same unemployment crisis as in the 1980s and we're all going to be on the dole. Oh, and being on the dole when you're young can seriously damage you psychologically. Tasty. So, while preparing myself for a stint at the Job Centre post-graduation, I'm trying to think what skills I have that are valuable for society. Physical, blood and sweat skills, skills that build roads and dig ditches and help us prosper.
If this all seems a bit dramatic, a bit apocalyptic and swerving towards some sort of Equilibrium-esque dystopia, then yes, it might be because I just finished reading 'The Man in the High Tower' by Philip K. Dick. But then, science-fiction futures, as the preface of the aforementioned book tells, are not so much prescriptive of the future as descriptive of the present. Artists always represent a threat, not stability, to governments that dictate and intervene. Maybe it is the threat of our weaknesses, our loss of real labour skills, that make is so, rather than the threat of our accurate and possible antagonistic communication of abstract nouns.
After handing everything in on Friday, including a cobbled together business plan and research file for the rest of my life (apparently), I am able to relax, knowing that lectures don't start again until the 26th.
However; a student's work is never done (ho ho). Next week I have the induction day for the business scheme I have managed to get a place on. I also have the chance to visit a local school to talk to them about a one-day-a-week residency. And I'm starting a bit of work for next semester. With earning-money work at weekends. And worrying about fundraising for the shows we are taking part in.
I'm glad for all these opportunities, as I am increasingly aware that other universities or even other departments within my own university do not have these chances. Our ceramics department is taking part in five shows this coming summer, including our degree show. Some departments take part in none. These opportunities could, potentially, help us gain contacts, 'network' (spit spit) and even make some cash. But having to fundraise for all these is incredibly difficult, especially during the slowly building recession. Why the fuck should anyone want to give a bunch of base mud-slingers money to stick their work on white plinths and hope for the best? The drafted begging letter we hope to send out talks about the importance of providing a forum for new and emerging artistic talent, but even I don't know if I believe this. Why should art, and art students, be given funding when essentially they are contributing nothing but abstract nouns to society? I'm not making cars, or computers, or things that could help; we are not nursing the sick or teaching children how to save the world that we've helped into such a terrible state. Abstract nouns are all well and good but they do not get the job jobbed. See next post!
Yesterday we had our assessment for the first semester, presenting our practical and sketchbook work. Unusually, I became very nervous and half-way through trailed off and stuttered "What do you want me to talk about now?" It wasn't because I've never done a presentation or discussed my work, but because I have discussed it so many times with those tutors I know they know what it's about. I'd rather be presenting to an external assessor so I can go through the whole concept without boring myself (and them) to tears.
General theme of assessments: When you tell people you are an art student and you're feeling under some pressure with making, writing and sticking bits of paper into a sketchbook, they ask "So what do you have to do, exactly? Exams is it?" Well, no. "So no exams? Practical tests?" Er, well sort of. "So you get up at 10am, go into university, play with some mud, and complain about it?" Part of me (the cynic) wants to say "Yes, mwhaahhaa!" and the other normally corrects them saying "It's actually really hard work, like, we've got to do a 5,000 essay, ok?" (which is nothing). I find assessments fairly stressful because it's a crucial point in both your module and your life. To be considered as an intelligent and serious artist or craftsman, you have to explain your work, talk about it, discuss it and verbalise all those little internal whimsies you wanted to put in the work. In ceramics especially, if you don't talk, you're just a potter. Even in the world of visual and tactile arts, it is still the linguistic that reigns supreme.
Many artists and craftsmen feel that they shouldn't have to explain their work, and I often feel the same about mine. Either it connects, or it doesn't. The visual presence of an object or artwork, and the following emotional or conceptual response in the mind of the viewer, is the dominant aspect of art and craft. Discursive theories and all the rest are important in understanding motives, themes, contemplating the work as a more-than-just-aesthetic experience, but the aesthetic experience should come first.
So maybe the assessment should go like this: tutors contemplate work for 15 minutes. Then with sketchbooks for 15 minutes. Then finally, student comes in and asks their opinion. Compare opinions for 15 minutes. All go down the pub.
Hello. I came across theDegrees Unedited blog concept whilst in the library today, flipping through AN to secure some research and possibly steal it to avoid heinous costs of photocopying. Starting this means I can shove my opinions in others' faces, no matter how boring or insignificant, and hopefully someone will identify with the problems that third year art students face.
I notice that there aren't many students from the West Midlands on here. Possibly because it appears at my university not many people care about art/craft. When asked why she had chosen to complete a three year, full time, approx £9,000 degree, a third year textiles student uttered the immortal phrase "I don't know". Afterwards we agreed that she could at least have had the decency to lie.
It is important for me that young artists and makers have a voice, somewhere in the ether, about issues surrounding art as a concept and as an actuality. I hope my blog will go some way to expressing my own voice and that others will do the same, loudly, but without saying LOLZ.
