Samuel van der Swaagh

EoW II

Dr. Nicola Blake

May 14, 2013

Artist’s Fulfillment vs. Passion

            An art career, according to the general public, is merely a lifelong pursuit of craft and creativity. A person working within the field of craft and Fine Arts contributes to society by mostly artistically manipulating visual or conceptual media (e.g. paint, clay, paper) into original shapes, images, or concepts that serve aesthetic more than functional purposes (Bureau of Labor and Statistics, U.S. Department of Labor, Occupational Outlook Handbook, 2012-13). Thus, the career title for a visual artist is a creator of images. Some people would argue that a visual art career is not work but only another form of recreation. In order to establish oneself into an art career one does not necessarily need higher education credentials as is the case for many other careers in business, science, and humanities. Certainly a BA or MFA makes one more competitive, but a certification is not required (Bureau of Labor and Statistics, et al., 2012-13). In fact, market trends indicate that the direction of an artist’s career is highly determined by the affluence of the economy. If the economy continues on the same trajectory as recorded during 2010, anticipated growth in the art job outlook during the next decade (i.e. 2010-2020) will continue to increase by five percent (Bureau of Labor and Statistics, et al., 2012-13).

            Thus, pursuing an art career could potentially be discouraging more than rewarding. The problem with this assertion, however, is that the art job market appears to be experiencing growth despite the current poor economy. Perhaps art is a dwindling field of work relative to other forms of occupations. Nonetheless, as stated earlier, there still remains a noticeable growing population of artists entering the workforce endeavoring to establish themselves in their field. How is an art career fulfilling or an attractive form of work in the contemporary economy?

            Ambitious artists, both professional and unprofessional, primarily thrive on a market willing and affluent enough to indulge itself in the arts. Vidocle (2013) describes the artist’s almost inevitable predicament by explaining that “Art can clearly exist without a market, but artists fundamentally rely upon a certain economy in order to live and make art” (Vidocle, 2013, para. 2). Historically, art usually becomes preserved during periods of poor markets, but a rich economy allows artists to be productive. That is, art “consumers” tend to be more inclined to buy, collect, or promote artwork when money, work opportunities, and cultural stability abound. Nonetheless, even during a vibrant market, professionalization remains a threat to an artist’s commitment to work. As Vidocle claims, “It’s a contradiction that a lot of people go into the arts because they want to be a little less alienated from what they do in life” (Vidocle, 2013, para. 11). Both entrepreneurial and creative industrial artists struggle to maintain a stable attachment toward their work. The economy either severs artists between part-time jobs, or the division of labor detaches them from the creative process. Consequently, a full-time commitment to art becomes either a luxury or a strain. Vidocle seems to believe that artists estrange themselves from meaningful work by entering the art profession.

            Reports from the New York Times and National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) press further the topic of artist alienation by presenting issues of personal investment and occupational work proportions. According to the paradoxical experiences and observations of Mr. Dearing as a craftsman—an instructor at Stanford’s Institute for Design and a former owner of a lost shoe business—“‘If you stop worry about the outcomes, you will achieve a better outcome’” (Ryssdal and Larson, 2013). The New York Times reporters (2013) emphasize that Dr. Dearing’s claim is applicable to all artists desiring to establish a career (Ryssdal and Larson). Mr. Dearing’s statement implicitly advises aspiring artists to deliberately estrange themselves from the effect or success of their artwork in order to remain resilient in frequent times of regression. Artists must avoid securing one’s dreams on work outcomes because failure and anxiety often stigmatizes zealots who place their full hope on unstable and fluctuating systems. In fact, statistics indicate that the lifestyle and work of artists tend to be alienating. That is, despite the fact that artists become “more entrepreneurial . . . and more educated than the workforce at large,” artists comprise fewer than 2% of the U.S. workforce and less than 10% of the country’s professional arena (NEA, 2011, para 3). In addition, national census data also states that artists “earn far less than the median wage of the ‘professional’ category of workers” (NEA, 2011, Wage gaps persist para. 2). This piece of data remains vague without NEA’s further observation that artists’ socioeconomic and racial or ethnic landscape is homogenous in relative terms (NEA, 2011, Artists demographics). Most artists embrace edgy lifestyles. Consequently, research seems to affirm many stereotypes about the overeducated, unemployed, bohemian artist.

            Given these facts, the question reemerges: How do artists create joy, fulfillment and meaning in their work despite their alienated and unstable economic presence within today’s workforce? The contemporary economy places the legitimacy of an art career under fire by discouraging people from becoming full-time artists. Thus, it remains consistent to assert that artists often become detached from their artwork because the economy causes them to lose momentum, switch to pragmatism, or, as mentioned earlier, to divorce their minds from the potential outcome of their work as a survival mechanism. My fieldwork with Dorothy Robinson, a professional painter who has a studio in Brooklyn, offers an informative perspective on the matter. My fieldwork entailed non-participant observations of her studio, painting routine and art community as well as qualitative interview data about work experience.

            During the interview, Dorothy presented an interesting point about talent and pursuing an art career. While answering my question about the ideal or desirable personal traits of an artist, Dorothy refers to one of her favorite quotes from Lee Bontecou, a 20th century sculptor: “’You can’t become an artist just because you have a little talent. No, something has to reach out and grab you.’” The nature of how Dorothy stumbled upon a painting career reflects the spirit of the above statement. Perhaps in the current modern society, people underestimate the driving motive behind an artist’s work. The possible and frequent poor stereotypical artist dominates the public’s image of an artist. However, it appears that people struggle to recognize that artists follow an art career not for monetary gain, but self-fulfillment. The studio’s work environment and Dorothy’s intense dedication to painting both communicate a painter’s unique meaning of work.

            My interest in the idea of passion, which is perhaps a typical form of motivation for people entering low paying fields, caused me to ask the painter whether or not she would consider work as her passion. Dorothy’s response caused me to think differently about the topic. Dorothy refused to define painting as her passion because she claims that the term has lost its integrity due to how people trivialize the word. That is, phrases like “follow your passion” have become generic slogans for inspirational and motivational speeches. Instead of using cliché adjectives to describe her work, Dorothy merely stated that painting is “part of who I am and my life.” That is, painting is an activity that completes and defines Dorothy as a person.

            Also, Dorothy communicated during the interview that what excites her most about painting is “that magic thing.” If Dorothy would place her painting in terms of her passions, I believe that the painter would hold to Newport’s (2012) view that passion follows the work rather than drives from the work. At the end of the day in the studio, Dorothy searches for what she tentatively refers to as the “magical” feeling of a painting taking “on a life of its own as the materials infused with something within me.” The exhilaration of the work comes out of the tedious long hours of painting and developing an intimate relationship with her paintings. This idea of magic speaks volumes about Dorothy’s culture at work. Magic is an occupational cultural phenomenon that derives from how workers interpret and manage unpredictable circumstances or forces inherent within the work (Ruthman, 1987). That is, the way workers control events or utilize chance within certain occupations arises from how the people view the work. The fact that Dorothy speaks of the uncontrollable aspects of her work as exhilarating demonstrates that the painter enjoys spontaneity. One could perhaps even venture further to assert that Dorothy’s decision to remain a painter, despite the economic hardships, relies on the artist’s full embrace of the field’s uncertainties. Data from the observations raises other attractive facets of following an art career.

            While observing Dorothy for about 30 minutes musing over her paintings, it became apparent that Dorothy’s love for solitude causes her to gravitate toward the work. Dorothy’s silent approach to painting defined her time at the studio to the extent that I always became startled by her impulse to scratch her paintings. Occasionally, after extensive periods of staring, pacing, and sighing, the sounds of the AC and distant construction work would be abruptly interrupted by a jarring screech. The most unsettling aspect of Dorothy’s system of retouching her paintings was her habit to suddenly spring at her paintings. Perhaps I describe Dorothy’s method of revising a painting in over dramatic terms. Nonetheless, Dorothy’s actions were highly emphasized by the silence of the studio. In Dorothy’s opinion, an artist can easily become lost in loneliness, but solitude is difficult to find. Solitude in Dorothy’s mind refers to an artist’s need for refuge and reinforcement. According to Dorothy’s personal experience as a painter, loneliness is destructive, and solitude is addictive.

            Although Dorothy never became lost in her painting, which is anti-stereotypical of artists, there were instances in which I was compelled to hold my peace from talking to Dorothy. I followed my instinct in judging the proper moments to verbally interact with my informant. During times of extremely focused painting, Dorothy maintained an engaging and friendly spirit to my questions or comments. The non-rushed nature of Dorothy’s work elicited occasional informal conversations. Even the act of washing semi toxic paint from her hands was not a rushed process. Probably the most decisive activity that I observed during the second session was, as referred to earlier, retouching incomplete paintings. Revising about a 4 square inch sector of a painting consumed approximately 20 minutes. Thus, one can imagine the hours and energy that Dorothy invests into her studio time aside from working as a graphic web/poster designer. Nothing has the quality of anxiety or expediency. Dorothy seemed to use her studio time as way to release her day’s angst through paint and images. I watch intently from a distance as Dorothy attacked her rice canvas with a brush or pen. Dorothy communicated to me that her passionate gestures allowed her to relive past moments, except with a brush in hand.

            In addition to being in an environment that is centralized around silent and solitary work, connecting and socializing is encouraged. An interesting observation was the practice of displaying artwork that seemed to promote artistic collaboration and discourse in an environment that discouraged socializing. Hanging artwork on one’s “wall” stimulated dialogue outside the studio. For example, Dorothy, a new comer to the studio, started a conversation with an artist by using posted artwork as a prompt for outside discussion. This unique system of communication demonstrates the values of networking within the subdivided studio (refer to map #1). The interesting aspect of this imaged based form of dialogue is that it permitted what Wright (2008) called weak ties to take on the quality of strong ties. Artists within the studio, who were perhaps mostly acquaintances of one another, felt comfortable engaging in more-than-causal interactions because discourse began on an intimate topic, an artist’s wall artwork. In addition to reducing the social hurdles associated with networking, this system of communication perhaps also makes an artist’s work more immediately meaningful.

            Dorothy’s meaning of work is twofold. First, work (i.e. painting) is “A very personal private solitary pursuit [that] . . . eventually . . . engage[s] with other aspects or parts of the world.” And second, work (i.e. CUNY Ed. web design and media job) is a deliberate activity that, in addition to providing income, encourages one to exist in, connect with, and feel a part of the world. These two mindsets of work seem at first to be in conflict with one another. That is, the former individualist, and perhaps ego-centric, understanding clashes with the latter collective perspective. Arguably, the private work of an artist becomes publicized or “collectivized” whenever open to public scrutiny (Delbanco, 2001). That is, one could assert that an artist’s work is never entirely individualistic. Nevertheless, as I examine Dorothy’s definition of work, I wonder whether the individual enterprise competes or complements the collective or holistic goals of society. According to further qualitative data from the interview, it appears that Dorothy’s personal experience supports the latter view.

            In the interview, Dorothy expressed neither a strict preference to individualism or collectivism. Perhaps the painter would agree with Theodore Roosevelt’s (1910) statement that “It is quite impossible, and equally undesirable, to draw in theory a hard-and-fast line which shall always divide [individualism and socialism]” (p. 9). Dorothy implicitly points out in the interview that an artist’s individual success opens more opportunities for a whole community of artists. Whether or not the artist’s has selfish or benevolent intentions, the artist’s prestige contributes to the vitality of his/her networks. For example, if a wealthy or popular artist subdivides and rents out his/her studio, a community of artists benefits from the artist’s greedy or generous act. Another example that would affirm the complementary relationship between self-interest and collectiveness is that the NYC art communities tend to be communal. That is, most NYC artists are sensitive to each other’s struggles to obtain materials, cheap spaces, and money. Often art networks become stabilized by people sharing and exchanging opportunities, supplies, and ideas. Whenever an artist receives recognition, his/her success necessarily feeds into the network.

            The fieldwork notes collected from the observations and interview sessions indicate that artists sometimes value the impact and process of their work more than the potential laud or monetary gain from the work. As Dorothy stated, following an art career requires talent that grabs the individual, and continues to fuel his/her work. That is, an artist can only feel alienated from his/her work if the artist is not truly an artist. As Junot Diaz (2009) would say, a person becomes an artist not by merit or achievement, but by persistent artistic productivity that never wanes in discouraging times of hopelessness or despair. Nonetheless, one must not be misled by the seductive saying of “follow your passion.” In the art world, Dorothy would argue that work produces one’s passion because passion reflects a person’s activities, productivity, and heart. In addition, Dorothy’s use of the word magic to describe the exhilarating feeling of a painting assuming a character of its own perhaps suggests the fact that Dorothy belongs to the culture of artists that embraces spontaneity and the instabilities of the occupation. Artists must accept their limited control over their medium and the capricious mood of their audience, and consequently their success. Unpredictability and experimentation become rich areas for exploration and fulfillment as an artist.

            In a similar vein, an artist’s cultural tendency toward solitude can often be misconstrued as alienation or loneliness. From the observations, Dorothy seemed extremely connected to her solitary work. In addition to being part of the work culture, solitude seems to allow artists to reach their full potential because it offers opportunities for reflection and meditation. In fact, Dorothy expresses that working alone in quiet spaces is almost an integral part of being an artist.  Despite this observation, it appears that artists can develop meaningful ties with mere colleagues because artists connect with each other based common social and artistic sensitivities, which can be an intimate form of connection for artists. This is exemplified by how artists share opportunities as well as visually communicate within a collaborative studio. The meaning of work can frequently centralize around the self, which could be the nature of an artist’s private work, but can also simultaneously find its fulfillment in the collective viewing or effects of the artwork.

            In concluding remarks, the fieldwork defies how general research negatively portrays artists’ work. To answer the posed question, one must examine the situation from the human and cultural dimension rather than through inference research analysis. Perhaps there exist a noteworthy number of artists that feel genuinely alienated and marginalized by their work. However, in theory, no one forces the work upon artists. The way artist find fulfillment in their work does not necessarily follow socially constructed manners of fulfillment (e.g. power, and money). A love for creativity, solitude, spontaneity, reflective expression and visual persuasion mark the work culture of artists. According to the fieldwork, these five elements measure and shape how an artist obtain fulfillment despite the dictates of the economy. Ironically, I have learned from my informant that the factors that might play against an art career as a vain pursuit (e.g. poverty, and alienation) might actually sustain the occupation’s legitimacy and meaning. The communal tendencies of NYC artists and the artists' cultural embrace of spontaneity and unpredictability both perhaps derive from the socioeconomic upheavals that artists typically face.

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