Grant season

I know that being a painter is not all making paintings, but the fewer days I spend trying to raise money to make work the better.

In fact, I chose painting as a way of making art because it afforded a lot of independence from institutional structures. You don't need expensive equipment like presses or kilns or computers...you really can do a lot with extremely basic materials.

But there are times when you want to do more, and getting outside support is essential, even if it means photographing work and trying to explain exactly what it is you're doing...

Photography is the hardest part for me. I was born in the era of slides and I still think of images of work as little objects that have to live someplace in the universe. I cannot keep straight my digital files of my work, and the fact that each application appears to have its own preferences for the format of images is utterly maddening. The last two days have been spent shooting and touching up images in Photoshop, and I still have very little confidence of them. At least one can touch up the images; in the age of slides, I could never get pictures that filled the frame or that were not skewed in some way. Thank heaven for the lens correct filter...

I can see that one way to make the photo task easier would be to have a space or a block of time set aside for it. As it is, I am always patching together lighting and wall space and things never seem to be where I need them. This is something I can fix, and hope to soon.

And while I've always found it very easy to write about others' work, writing about my own is a headache. I am always convinced that I am not really where I should be, that I don't have enough work, and that I'm not making it clear what I plan to do next. That could be because I am not a very strategic painter; I remain more interested in following ideas where they lead than in following a plan for getting from here to there in my work. Too much of my life as a teacher and administrator has become about identifying and achieving objectives; my studio should remain (as much as possible) a place where I can refrain from having clear objectives and see where things go.

I have also become terribly distrustful of the idea of progress in the studio - progress toward what? From what to what? When you adopt the idea that audiences make art out of the pictures you produce, you have to face the fact that you're not making art until it gets out of your control. I'm okay with that, but it seems like an idea that is tacitly disapproved of grant applications, which foster the illusion of self control and agency in artists...as if we were really driving the bus.

But I have at least three major funding proposals to get together this fall, and two exhibits to propose based on work that already exists. I have never really liked the idea of the artist who works so hard to get things out of the studio that he doesn't make work, but I don't like the idea of drowning in work or of not being able to carry out ideas because they require me to seek financial or technical help.

Update:
I had a small revelation as I went to mail the application today, after spending another three hours tinkering with it...I would never have been able to complete this grant application had I been teaching this semester. If I get this award, it will have a huge impact on what I can make in the next year. If not, well, at least I tried. It's disturbing to think about how much work doesn't get thought out because of the pressures of our day to day lives. I don't know that I'll be able to be so much more organized when I return to work from this sabbatical, but I will be aware of how much less creative work I - and all my colleagues - are getting done...