from “The Bare Collective Panel” at Eyebeam on July 31, 2017
L. B. “Jeff” Jefferies’s Rear Window
How Did Those Girls Get There?
Outline for My Future Biography:
Steven Bridge: Google Street Car artist
At some point in their career, an artist will more than likely be involved in the process of writing an artist statement. They will often think this creation to be a simple task until they actually have to do it. The art of describing themselves and their work is not an easy feat. They will panic. They will sweat. They will, as Gene Fowler says, “sit staring at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on [their] forehead.”
Everyone should try to write about their creative work. Writing is just an organized form of thinking, and thinking about your work helps you to make better work. However, many artist statements end up vague, lyrically romantic, verbose, obviously trying to impress with unnecessary vocabulary. Pompous things to avoid include too many quotations from philosophers, writers, or artists and too much technical talk. The point of an artist’s statement is not to provide the audience with a complete education or to highlight in jargon all the complicated aspects of a manual that most folks cannot comprehend. Its challenge is to distill and clarify an artist’s intention in an accessible way through language. Who are you? What did you make? How did you make it? And why is that important to you? People are interested in other people, and their narratives and the statements should be welcoming.
Liz Sales is an artist, and also a go-to person to help navigate this system. She has provided assistance to countless other artists who feel that making work and being able to write concisely and articulately about it are two entirely different skill sets. In this little paperback, Liz uses her understanding of the structure of the artist statement to construct statements for fictional photo-based artists that satirize art school, gallery, and popular photography clichés, as well as describe impossible projects that simply could not exist off the printed page.
—Matthew Carson, head librarian and archivist, International Center of Photography
Things that don’t quite make sense can be most valuable tools.
—David Wilson, director, Museum of Jurassic Technology
Truth may be stranger than fiction, goes the old saw, but it is never as strange as lies.
(Or, for that matter, as true.)
—John Hodgman, The Areas of My Expertise (2005)
Beginning a written work with a succession of semi-obscure quotes is often a sign of insecurity.
—Anonymous
Martin Shear is a self-taught artist who works as a custodian at an elementary school in Nashville, Tennessee, by day and paints, from photographs, on small, pre-stretched canvas in acrylic by night. His family’s home is filled with dozens and dozens of paintings that measure 8 × 10 inches, as well as a handful of even smaller ones placed on shelves. Some of these paintings are made from postcards depicting the Nashville skyline, because the skyline is pretty and familiar, while other paintings depict his wife’s guitars because he likes painting guitars and Betsy owns quite a few.
Like other artists who have chosen to live far from the Chelsea galleries, he regularly posts his paintings on Facebook and Instagram. His paintings are just the right scale for documenting with his Samsung Galaxy 6 and posting on social media sites. Friends and strangers see and like his work: they give him encouragement and, sometimes, they reach out to him about purchasing a piece. Essentially, Shear is happier than you are. You’re way too fucking precious about your work.
These stunning images of sidewalk litter shot in nature highlight our undeniable impact on the environment, including the urban environment. My interest in repurposing trash in the service of art began on the day I volunteered to chaperone my son’s Cub Scouts troop on their community service day, collecting litter. While the boys removed the refuse from the sidewalk, placing it in trash and recycling receptacles, I watched, struck by the beauty of a crushed Fanta can backlit in the gold tones of the early morning light.
I began transforming garbage into art. I shot cigarette butts, straws, latex balloons, Styrofoam cups, used condoms, and an old set of flip-flops, leaving each where I found it. These images bring