As an artist, I have read hundreds of artist statements in my life. Occasionally, I will find one that is well-written, informative, and does a fine job of articulating the aims of the artists and the core concepts to be found in their work. I would say, however, that this is not the case for more than ninety percent of statements I read. The vast majority, well… suck. I have come to expect clunky, redundant, convoluted, and circular writing in most statements artists write about their practice. Because of this clear trend, I always thought that perhaps artists just typically aren't good writers. However, after examining the topic further, I realized that not only is the issue much deeper than artists simply lacking the gift of elegant prose, but rather I understand these incoherent ramblings as an auspicious sign that the artist is probably creating something of substance.
But first, what is an artist statement? An artist statement is a three or four paragraph (although some are dizzyingly longer) description of the primary focus and aims of an artist’s practice. The statement is always written by the artist and provides viewers with context which aids in the understanding of their work. Sometimes, artists will have a statement about a particular body of work or exhibition, but almost all will have a general statement that speaks to their entire artistic practice. These witten pieces are meant to be enriching as they add contextual depth to the experience of viewing the artist’s work.
Speaking from experience, I know that writing an artist statement usually isn’t fun (especially when you’re on the nineteenth variation of something written years before). Ask any artist about the process of statement writing and you will likely be met with a sigh, a shaking of the head, and a visible sense of dread. Several artists I have spoken with over the years have even said that of all the struggles, trials, and tribulations of artmaking, the artist statement is their most difficult project. As I mentioned above, one obvious reason for this seems to be quite simple: artists aren’t writers. If they were, they would be expressing themselves in written form, not through the production of tangible visual artifacts. This is certainly a fair and important point. That said, I think many artists are educated and capable of relatively clear writing, just not when it comes to writing about their work. Ask them to write about someone else's work (i.e., art they are far less connected to and have a more objective perception of) and the process becomes far less daunting. So what’s going on here?
In the timeline of human history, language is believed to have evolved roughly around the same time as the genus homo gave birth to its subspecies, homo sapien sapiens: about 200,000 years ago. Interestingly, due to the discovery of archeological evidence, it has also been speculated that the advent of artistic expression happened far after the development of language. This would mean that humans were communicating with each other via articulated sound and gesture before we were manipulating natural materials to produce visual representation.
Language is an amazing and unique feature of humankind. While communication is a very common feature found in plants and animals throughout the animal kingdom, language appears only once. While language was a critical development in our evolutionary history, it is a highly limited, left hemisphere-dominant skill. As every person knows from experience, there is a vast ocean of human experience in which language and verbal communication simply cannot connect with or capture. Our experiences in life can often be far too rich, subjective, and nuanced for words to describe. In fact, much can be lost of an experience once it’s translated into the tight constraints and limitations of language. I believe that this might be why we see the visual arts appear after the development of language; the arts appear to be a kind of extension of language. After all, art is fundamentally a communication device, though far more symbolic and intuitive than the more direct mode of language. Symbolism and intuition are key concepts in both the creation and consumption of art.
For anyone who has seen war propaganda posters of the 20th century, they likely wouldn’t describe them as “intuitive” since they leave little to the subjective imagination. They are highly direct and serve a very specific purpose: to alter conscious perceptions and coerce the viewer into a very specific ideological position or behavior. They have the tactical function of effectively communicating a message to masses of people with as little ambiguity as possible. While these posters can certainly be visually creative, conceptually they are not. The creators of the posters knew well ahead of putting pencil to paper precisely what needed to be communicated. It is their job to effectively translate a linguistic sentiment into visual form. A good propagandist eliminates to the best of their ability the possibility of any subjective interpretation of their message in favor of a universal and objective understanding of their work. This precision of knowing the purpose and utility of the work in such a direct way is what makes it propaganda, not art. One could imagine that writing artist “statements” for these posters would be quite an easy task. There would be no struggle to find the right words or to articulate abstract concepts when the purpose and function of the work is so clear.
This is not so for artists as those who make art don’t fully understand what they’re creating. This is why artist statements are so difficult. When one only has a visceral and intuitive sense of the gestalt, it can be impossibly difficult to attempt to put words to that which can’t be spoken — and artists are not often seeking an unambiguous understanding of their work. Art is necessarily subjective and the wider the spectrum of resonation a piece of art bears upon its audience, the more successful the artist often feels. A reflective artist understands that although they themselves may have a vision and understanding of their own work (though again, not fully), it is unimportant to the artist whether or not that exact same understanding takes place in the minds of the audience.
The process of art is never “complete” and it certainly doesn’t end when all the white space of a canvas is filled and the artist adds their signature. The process of art continues in the subjective space that exists between the ears of the viewer and that which is captivating the view. That uniquely personal experience bears a different experiential quality behind the eyes of every individual viewing the work.
A piece of art exists in its own time, place, and medium. A painting is not a line of prose or a piece of music — it’s a painting, and a painting couldn’t be anything other than itself. To translate it into another medium could be attempted, but how much would be lost with such a conversion? Well, the whole thing. That’s what happens in an artist statement. The artist attempts to translate and summarize a body of work of a certain medium into that of the direct mode of written words.
In many artist statements, the artist seems to almost have a mission to use convoluted language to make their process and work seem as deep and complex as possible because for them, it is. A love of nature evidenced through a lifetime of landscape paintings, for example, can’t simply be written as “I love nature and landscape, so I paint it.” While that would be an absolutely true statement, it wouldn’t even touch the intuitive sense in which the artist feels those landscapes. That is best seen and felt in the paintings themselves. There would be something deeply degrading about putting such a rich and intuitive sense of wonder, inspiration, and awe of the natural world in such straightforward terms. In that case it would probably be better to say nothing and let the work speak in the way it was intended.
Another challenge artists often run into is trying to understand the creative impulse itself. This is another example of where the artist shares almost nothing with the propagandist. The artist has a call to create from the depth of their soul which beckens to them the insatiable need to communicate. Propagandists make art because they have to. Artists make art because they need to. After all, we have only the dimmest idea of what creativity is at the neurological level and not the slightest idea of where these general impulses come from. Asking an artist to fully examine why they do what they do is akin to asking someone why they were born in the body they have in the time and place they exist. It just is.
All this is not to be understood as an indictment of the artist statement, though I think the final draft of a statement is far less important than the process of writing one. The exercise of artists reflecting on themselves and their work is of extreme importance and I would argue is a necessary and ongoing process in the life of an artist. A statement is just that: an exercise, something that continues to evolve alongside the artist’s practice, never to be taken too seriously as a final product.
Next time you find yourself fumbling through an artist statement, remember that the clunky sentences and twenty five dollar words may be a sign the artist is onto something great.
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