Muddled Thoughts: Others' Work

I find myself in my studio often working on others' work. I mean that their work has become my work, but the start is still their work. 

Let me clarify. My 'Unsolicited Collaboration' series begins with another artist's work, and then it is just a process of figuring out how I can make my work fit in with theirs. But I also mean this is the sense of my own work being the base.

A lot of the art that I am creating currently in the studio starts with my own old work, someone else's work, or a scrap from something I am currently in progress with. There is no new, there is no old, there is only art being turned into more art, which then gets recycled into more, new, art. Following me? I get it if you aren't, because I am having a hard time articulating what I am trying to say myself.

I guess it comes down to doubt, which is a stupid thing to be having in my brain, but it is there, and it will always be there. What if I don't create anything new now that I have graduated? What if this is it and when I have used all the old it is over? 

But also, what if this is just the phase in which I figure it out, at least a little bit more?

I have been thinking a lot about grad school, being a full time artist, and being a naive little punk. Maybe I am just the type of artist who creates things, destroys said things, and then makes something new out of it? What if I can never sell anything because by the time it is available its been turned into something else?  This idea makes me extremely happy actually. I think it is hilarious to think of an artist, who is really well sought after, creating things only to destroy them into something new by the time a collector has a second to see the work.

Destroy them into something new.... think about that for a second.

So here I am, in my studio, sitting at my studio mate's desk, writing this blog post instead of making work. I have been working with others' work all night, but I am unsure about my own. 

Maybe I just need that blank sheet of paper. That blank wall to start creating on in order to make my own work. Truly my OWN work. 

For more photos of in progress studio work check out my studio page!

Why I Am Collaborating Without Any Collaboration

This all started with the free drawings.

If you are unaware, starting in March of 2017 I began giving away daily free drawings through my Instagram account (follow here). The rules stated that all you needed to do was be the first person to comment on the image and you would receive the drawing (with signed back) free of charge and with free shipping, which included international recipients as well.  My plan for the project was to give my art away to people that wanted it and to do it everyday for a year. Well, as most “365 day” projects go, I did not manage to post a new drawing everyday for a year, but I did get pretty far, and I connected with amazing people from all around the world, including over 15 states and multiple countries.

One of the free drawings given away during this project

The project took a different turn for me when I began thinking about what it really means to give away art, which was sparked when I began trying to sell a few pieces I had made. It appeared that my adoring fans had vanished as soon as any sort of compensation for the artist came into play. I came to terms with that fact that people wanted free art, and that they did not really love my work enough to pay for it.

This got me thinking about how drawings by well-known artists are received versus the drawings that emerging artists make. Artists’ drawings are not considered high art (this is generalizing for sure) until they “make it” as artists, but when that moment happens, trash that was thrown away becomes important, scribbles in their sketchbook become important, and documents of their thoughts become important, so why do we not look at the emerging artists’ trash, scribbles, or consider their thoughts in this very moment?

Antony Gormley, "Domain Field", Commission by BALTIC, Level 4 Gallery, 2003, Stainless Steel.

Antony Gormley, "LEARNING TO THINK (AGAIN)", From "CHICORY COFFEE" series, Chicory coffee on paper, 1995-1996

The heart of the work comes from that. I am interested in the work that artists of this moment are creating, disregarding, and now throwing/giving away. I am having a dialogue with the artists of this time, and learning from masters of now, rather than waiting until these artists are known to revisit the work they made when they were young.

Even writing that sounds a little cheesy, but a lot of it is true.

I think there are quite a few more thoughts to put together myself before sharing them with the world, but the base of the project starts here. I will continue to make the work, and through that action should be able to fully articulate the process soon.

Detail from Unsolicited Collaboration with @jonathan.saiz #2

The Importance of Keeping Work Unprecious

A recent experiment has led me to believe that I am truly at the pinnacle of not considering my work precious in any sense. These pieces, titled Crossings 1-5, were up at my co-op gallery (NEXT Gallery) for the past six weeks. I had priced them to sell, each at $40, but after two openings of them not 

Selling I decided to list them on my social networks at a discounted price of $25 each, with the 'warning' that if they did not sell by the following Monday (that being today) that I would hang them in my bathroom and watch as they slowing deteriorate, or not, I honestly have no idea what will happen. But this gets me thinking, are people truly not interested in the works, or are they now more interested in watching what happens as the drawings on MDF panel begin to break down in the humid environment? And if that is the case, will people be more interested in owning the work after that experiment? I'm not sure... but I digress. 

My current studio practice involves a lot of assemblage pieces, mostly made up of other discarded works, works in progress, or other random supplies I find around my studio. The pieces are all about intuitive creation and relationships between the material and the substance on the material, but the point is that my discarded works that I hold on to in the off chance that I will go back and rework them (which I won't. I know you won't. No artist really does that, come on.) are now becoming temporary works of art that I am extremely proud of and happy with the outcome.

I document the work, and they often just throw the pieces away. They gain a second life, and once I feel satisfied with the outcome, they are discarded. Some pieces stick around because I find more potential through the assemblage process (such as the vintage wallpaper in Sticky Fingers shown above, which has now gone through many differently variations and is something quite different nowadays), but most are just allowed to reach their potential and are then retired. 

I find such joy in repurposing work, allowing work to be left out and affected by the studio process (slight bends when moving, or splatters from a painting session), and letting the studio take over the work rather than just me all the time. It is a hard thing for an artists to do, but I find that the more I let go of control, or let go of making work, storing work, hoping that a magic collector will come along and buy all my old works, the more I enjoy the art making process for what it is. I am extremely excited on the inside to slowly watch Crossings fall apart, warp, run, or whatever the hell it decides to do, so excited in fact I am tempted to hang one directly above the shower head, though I am disappointed that no one wanted the work. I guess that just solidifies my thoughts that you need to be confident in the work for people to be confident in living with it, but that's a whole other discussion. 

Stay tuned to see what happens to the work.

Best, 

Drew