"Inspiration is for amateurs"

I’ve been ruminating on this Chuck Close quote since I saw it on twitter a few weeks ago. The words shot through me with a rush of adrenaline and anxiety. I felt seen and embarrassed. I’ve always considered myself an inspiration guided artists. I don’t think it’s a bad thing to be this way, I’ve created some beautiful work, at the same time however, when I look back on the inconsistency with which I produce work… seen. Today I decided to find the full quote for context (and to hopefully take away some of the sting)…

Inspiration is for amateurs - the rest of us just show up and get to work. And the belief that things will grow out of the activity itself and that you will - through work - bump into other possibilities and kick open other doors that you would never have dreamt of if you were just sitting around looking for a great ‘art [idea].' And the belief that process, in a sense, is liberating and that you don't have to reinvent the wheel every day. Today, you know what you'll do, you could be doing what you were doing yesterday, and tomorrow you are gonna do what you [did] today, and at least for a certain period of time you can just work. If you hang in there, you will get somewhere.

This quote is taken from an interview with Brain Pickers published in Inside the Painters Studio

Yeah, no. Still stings.

Evaluating the sting

I have always been drawn to the idea of artists. The mystery. The eccentricity. The cool. The freedom. They just seemed to have amazing lives. From living in some fantastic loft with big windows and concrete floors to spending all day doing whatever they wanted. Wandering the streets at night in search of some inspiration then creating into the morning. In my mind, this idea was the embodiment of how I wanted to live. How I should be living if I was going to call myself and artist. I’ve had a day job since I graduated college. I sleep at night and rarely go out let alone wander the streets. So I didn’t call myself an artist. My favorite line for longest time has been that “I make stuff.”

I accepted a while ago that my antiquated idea of what an artist was and how an artist lived was off base but I still thought about creating (for me) as inspiration driven. And I’ve stuck with that thought despite reading tons of books that push doing the work above all else. I leaned more into the idea floating around about doing what feels good for YOU. Not allowing anyone else to tell you how to live your life yadda yadda yadda. There is comfort in the validation of your feelings. Especially when you are using those feelings as justification to not make stuff. Especially when the impostor syndrome sets in after you start comparing yourself to your peers. Inspiration is for amateurs.

Impostor syndrome is the alcohol on the sting. The sting is in the belief that I, by using inspiration as the tool to make work, am an amateur thus validating the impostor syndrome. Now do I have to believe this to be true? No. But would it still sting if I didn’t? I’m inclined to say no. This entire quote is an indictment on my creative process.

I haven’t shot anything (for me) in over a year. All things considered, it’s time to get to work. And put my faith in “ the belief that things will grow out of the activity itself and that you will - through work - bump into other possibilities and kick open other doors that you would never have dreamt of if you were just sitting around looking for a great ‘art [idea].' And the belief that process, in a sense, is liberating and that you don't have to reinvent the wheel every day. “

Adult Things

We are almost ten days into the new year and I haven’t been here in over a month. No, I didn’t take a ceremonial end of the year social media break or anything like that. I just haven’t had anything to say. One thing I’ve come to understand about myself is that I value silence. There is so much to learn in the quiet. I also understand that the world has an absurdly short attention span. The less you have to say the more likely you are to be forgotten. Luckily for me, I’m not worried about being forgotten. I’m sure hardly anyone knows this space exists. And that is completely fine with me. Now that that is out of the way….

I ended 2018 having serious discussions about money. Spending money. Managing money. Saving money. Setting ones self up for an inevitable future. Money. A question was posed to me about life insurance and renters insurance. I have neither. The question got me to thinking about the unthinkable. The new year always encourages you to focus on the things you want to change so I started looking into getting myself some insurance. I started with renters insurance, it being relatively cheap and considering I have a budding art collection, I figured it would be wise to get some.

I went to the googles and started my search. Buying renters insurance is like buying car insurance. You can go to one site and they will find you the best rate. Awesome. Filling out the info, I had to figure out how much insurance I actually need. I mentally appraised the contents of my apartment and settled on an amount above what was recommended (I like nice things and art). I am then matched with a company and quoted a rate. Reasonable. Ready to pull the trigger, I scan the site for any fine print I may have missed and I notice a link for the breakdown of the policy coverage. It didn’t occur to me before that I didn’t know exactly what was going to be covered. I was not thinking about it like car insurance. This link was very eye opening. The insurance policy I was ready to buy only covers my items up to the individual coverage limits and doesn’t cover damage that is the result of a natural disaster. Awesome. $2,000 for furniture, $5,000 for electronics, $1,000 for art and collectibles. When I saw that last figure my jaw dropped. Only $1,000 for fine art. How is it possible that the insurance limit for original artwork was only one thousand dollars? If you are fortunate enough to own works above that price point what are you to do? Everyone talks about buying art and supporting artists but no one talks about maintaining your investment.

It can be quite overwhelming when you think about it, maintaining your investment. I saw a post on twitter once that said something like “no one tells you it cost more to frame the print than what you actually paid for the print.” I felt that. The only works I have that are professionally framed I purchased that way. Framing is expensive! This search for the best way to insure my assets has given me a headache and anxiety. Doing the work of compiling all the bills of sale and any certificates of authenticity, photographing each piece, getting an actual appraisal on the pieces; it’s a lot. But it’s also necessary. We can’t invest in things we can’t afford to protect. We also can’t claim ignorance once we learn what we didn’t previously know (and google is free). I did find a site that will catalog your archive and keep all of your paperwork in order. I’m also eager to highlight the artists and works in my collection. Soon come.

I find myself having more and more of these conversations about things that feel very adult. Like insurance. The closer you get to 40 the more illuminated these things become. Which opens the door for another conversation about access to information, class and cultural norms. A conversation I don’t feel like having today.

The important thing is that in 2019 it is on my radar and something I won’t continue to ignore. It’s information I am sharing and I’ll finally know what the work I’ve collected is worth. Win win.

SIS

New mini prints by Rikki Wright to add to the collection.

I’m going to do a post highlighting the various artists works I’ve had the privilege of acquiring some time soon. For now, I just want to highlight how important it is to support living and local artists.

On Support and Accessibility

Someone might see these 4 x 6 prints and not consider them as part of an art collection, but when building a collection, support and accessibility go hand in hand. I purchased my first painting 8 years ago for $20. The artist made his work, that was worth much more than twenty bucks, accessible to someone that had the desire to support him but not the means. Before that day, I never thought I could own an actual painting. That 12 x 12 painting opened up a new world of possibilities for me.

A couple of years ago, an artist I was just getting to know came over to my house with another artist of friend of mine. When she walked in, she was surprised by all the art on the walls. She recognized a couple of the photographic works. She commented on how she never really considered purchasing art from peer artists she admired and how cool it was to see these artist’s work hanging up in someones home.

My $20 investment inspired someone else to start investing in the work of fellow artists. We all can’t afford to spend thousands of dollars on a piece of art but we might be able to spend $10 or $20. That $20 might help that artist get some supplies, or food, or a new fan that has the means to spend more. We just have to support. Artists that make their work more accessible (by selling small versions) help us do that.

Planes

I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it out of the house on Saturday. Fires have been destroying parts of LA and Ventura Counties since Thursday afternoon. Thick smoke enveloped the sky, masking the sun. Colors of blush and tangerine spilled through the windows in my house. Reflecting on the destruction and praying for lives lost made for a beautifully somber afternoon. I went out anyway. I’m blessed to live a mile or so from the The Underground Museum. Not wanting to travel too far in this air, I made my over. Stopped at a red light, I looked over to see a woman wearing a blue dust mask. A reminder of the reality that fires were still burning some 40+ miles away, only 20 percent contained.

I was greeted by familiar faces when I walked in. Brandon and Justen are great guys that hold down the fort most days at TUM. They are also amazing artists you’ll get to know soon. I sat with Justen for a few minutes, catching up, before he prepared me for what I was about to experience. He spoke about the response to the show, how emotionally stirring and charged it is. How it confronts the viewer and forces you to connect to the subjects. He told me it was okay to cry before I walked through the double doors and closed them behind me.

The walls were painted purple. TUM purple. Noah’s purple. Gold lettering invites you into the space, letting you know what you are about bear witness to.

“Every human body carries the memories and marks of its origin story.”

I was alone in the space. There was a hollowness in the brief moments of silence. My footsteps. An Asante chant in the background. I feel transported to another place and time— but home. Deana Lawson’s photographs feel like they were made decades ago. I feel a familiarity with the subjects spaces and a kinship with subjects themselves. I know these people. I know someone that knows these people. I’ve looked down on these people. I’ve looked down on myself. This is the confrontation. Being pulled in by the familiar while simultaneously wanting to pull away and disassociate from “these types” of people. I’m breathing heavy as I write this.

“But bodies are also like vessels that contain all of the knowledge, love, and culture needed to imagine themselves beyond the boundaries of earthly acres, and oceans.”

Walking from room to room, the Asante chant ever present, I feel the ancestral plane that is so often spoken of (hey Black Panther) permeating from the corners. We are connected. Soweto to South Central. We are connected.

By the time I reach the last image the tears have pooled in my eyes. We are a beautiful thing.

Viewers notes: I am not an art critic and this is not a critique of the show. Just my thoughts on what I just experienced.

Curatorial Statement, Deana Lawson PLANES

KINGS, 2018 Deana Lawson

BARBARA AND MOTHER, 2017 Deana Lawson

ETERNITY, 2017 Deana Lawson

There is so much more to see. More to sit with. More to experience. This show will be on view until February 17, 2019. Check out TUM’s site to learn more about the artist and this amazing work.

views

Last week I made it out to the California African American Museum (CAAM) here in L.A. for Can’t Stop Won’t Stop, a celebration of their fall exhibitions. Nearly 2,000 people came out to see the shows. It wouldn’t be a party without the deejays and food trucks. It was a really good time. I think the electric slide happened at least 3 times. It’s always a wonderful experience when the community comes together. CAAM does an amazing job of engaging audiences with relevant, thought provoking works from artists of Color. To quote EJ Hills’ work A Declaration, “We deserve to see ourselves elevated.”

Here are pics of the some of works on view…

Nina Chanel Abney Royal Flush

Incite (COM), 2015 Nina Chanel Abney

Mad 51st Street, 2012 Nina Chanel Abney

Untitled (XXXXXX), 2015 Nina Chanel Abney

Robert Pruitt: Devotion

A Brother I Have Had on Earth, 2017 Robert Pruitt

Eve After the Fall, 2018 Robert Pruitt

California Bound: Slavery on the New Frontier 1848-1865

This show was curated by my friend Tyree Boyd-Pates and discusses the little known history of California’s participation in the enslavement of Africans.

It’s a lot to take in but so worth it

The history of Bridget “Biddy” Mason is a fascinating one. Inspiring too

If you’re in the L.A. area check out these shows. Also on view are Los Angeles Freedom Rally, 1963 and The Notion of Family. There’s a lot to see in L.A. I’m looking forward to getting out to more shows.