The above photo is a shot of my studio space, junior year of RISD, 1999. It was set-up for an open-studio kind of event. And yes, there's a lot of yoni and breasts in that there photo. All of the large work on the right side wall sold, somewhere between 1999 and 2012. I majored in Printmaking and loved Intaglio processes - but I did a lot of mixed media work, often involving monotypes and transfers.
After 2001, I didn't do a lot of what I consider "fine art." I made a lot of dance-inspired pieces, which have sold (and continue to) sell very well - but would I show them to a gallery or museum? Probably not. They're exercises in playing with line, color, movement. But I would believe that most of the people who have purchased the originals and prints would consider them to be art, for sure. Why don't I? That's disconcerting, to me at least.
I got started in the art world very young. I started formal art lessons in first grade, at a prestigious arts center in New Jersey, and then traveled across the Delaware River to study at Fleisher Art Memorial most Saturdays of the year until I was 14. When my family moved to South Carolina, I was very active and competitive in the high school visual arts program and won a spot in the Governor's School for the Arts Summer Program. Through all of this, my artwork was exhibited frequently and won numerous awards. I can't even remember a tenth of all of the places my art has been and what it has won.
And all throughout this process, I would always hear about the division between "Fine Art" and "Illustration" - usually with a disdain towards the latter - especially by Fine Arts. Illustrators would occasionally roll their eyes toward the whole Fine Art deal, alluding to flakey, touchy-feely, procrastinators.
I chose to major in Printmaking because it seemed to be one of the few options that allowed for both Fine Art and Illustration. It was about the process of Printmaking more than what you did with it. You could use a lithography press to make fine art, or illustrate a book, for example. But that didn't stop the debate from cropping up at critiques.
And I sit here, preparing to start promoting myself as a visual artist again, focusing on creating new work, artist statement, etc, I am faced with the question of - what genre is my work? Does it fit into some sort of "-ism"? And would the mythical and looming "they" consider my work illustrative or fine art? And lastly, why do I even care?
Illustration, at its core, is about giving visual life to some other form of art - such as a story, poem, or song. And there within, that suggests that the art, without the companion, lacks meaning. Fine Art is supposedly about making art, for art's sake. But so much fine art lacks a "deeper meaning" - what of the pretty florals and landscapes that hang over couches? Portraits of ancestors? If it tells a story, does that make it no longer fine art, or do the mythical elite consider it not art at all? When I make art, I am often telling myself a story in my head, whether I planned it, or not. Do all artists do this when they make art? Or does that guy making squares on squares, just do it without thinking?
And I think of my favorite artists: Frida Kahlo, Andrew Wyeth, Alphonse Mucha, Jean Gerome', John Singer Sargent, William Blake, and countless others....some of which have been called illustrators, and some certainly did work as such, but also made fine art, and hang in museums all over the world. They have been inspirations for me for as long as I can remember, and they all thought deeply about their work and the stories behind it. How is their work defined? What "'ism" do they fall under? And if my work harkens back to them, what does that make my work?
So maybe I should just say "Here's my work....define it for yourself."
