From museums to shows to in-class critiques to online inspiration boards, I've seen a lot of art. In a way, I've desensitized myself to art to the point that it is a purely intellectual engagement: what do I like about the craftsmanship? How can this be useful to me? There is a cold utility in this way that I view pieces, and yet I think that's not exclusive to me—perhaps this is a larger cultural issue, perhaps it's due to the Internet and social media, perhaps it's actually always been this way.
It's not especially useful to determine some kind of standard for when something becomes art and I cringe when people say things like, you can't create art because you're not an artist,
as though having a paycheck for the art you produce is the only way to validate your artistry. I also understand it's really hard for people to engage with art—at least that's been my observation throughout my life. We're flooded with visual and auditory stimulation thanks to content feeds and streaming platforms of all kinds.
What breaks the mold, then? What makes art impactful?
I expected more pieces...
One of the only critiques I received was that someone expected to see many more pieces than the 9 I had displayed. This made me laugh (to myself) because I think this was an expression of how uncomfortable this person really was. I had no pieces that could serve as a resting point (no fluffy kittens or golden fields of wheat to be found). Although this comment is valid (and I had struggled with deciding how many pieces to display), it relates to another reason I think that we have a hard time engaging with art.
The restraint was a message. The show was focused, poignant, and intentional. This is the opposite of how we normally have "art" thrust upon us in the commercial world. Online, we see non-stop images and videos. We gobble up the content as though we are starved: trying to stuff as much as we can into our brains by swiping, swiping, swiping, swiping.
I literally did this exact thing when I was trying to find something for this newsletter—I stumbled upon a great artist I had never known before and flicked through the carousel of pictures as though I were trying to download it all into my mind within as few seconds as possible. WHY?!
Well, I think that restraint is part of what makes art. It’s not just the design of our online experiences that encourages us to gloss over artwork, this happens at art museums. People rush through the exhibit, taking only a few moments for each piece. Restraint is a key part of the experience, just like it is when you are really listening to someone. By design, my art show did not have many pieces. It was a small space, people had to walk at least part way to this venue (and in the rain)—that's a lot of work for them, and therefore blasting through the line-up would be a waste of that effort that they took to come all the way out there. Having fewer pieces meant that most people actually looked at each piece multiple times.
I can't know for sure, but I think that the restraint was the right decision to maximize the impact I might have. There were uncomfortable themes, so giving people space to hang out a little bit longer was also an attempt to provide grace and safety. It's ok if they didn't like it or if it caused confusion or if it was unsettling. They were able to sit with it just a little longer, potentially without numbing, and they could do it surrounded by people who were doing the same thing.
You're so talented...
I'm not going to pretend like I'm some great artist, but actually it makes me a little bit sad when all I hear is, you're so talented.
I understand there are many reasons someone might say this: they didn't know I could draw, so they're expressing their surprise; they don't know what else to say, because they're not used to thinking of art as something to engage with outside of the binary of like it/don't like it; but worst of all, it's because the piece(s) left them uncomfortable and they are deflecting.
There's no shame for saying or doing any of these things in reaction to art. I bring this up to reveal what I've seen. I suspect many people have no idea there could be something happening under the surface of a well-intentioned compliment. Obviously, I can't read someone's mind, but from a few interactions I had with my art show, I did get a sense that many people that I know personally were uncomfortable and were trying to deflect.
It took me a moment to process what this means when I saw this happening. At first, I figured that the show was a failure—people came out of curiosity and to support me, but the message wasn't getting through. Then I realized that I needed to take my own advice and let them experience what they experience. I can't control their takeaways, their understanding, their feelings. Instead (and thanks to my wife for all of her support), the show may have been a success after all because I know it made people uncomfortable.
I didn't get art until...
At one point, a friend approached me with a story about the first time an artwork deeply moved them. With tears in their eyes, they said that they had experienced the same thing there at the show.
I don't think there's anything more precious than to know that something I created was able to communicate and connect with someone that deeply.
I had a similar experience recently as I made my way through an LGBTQ+ art show. I had been going through the long line of pieces, when suddenly a table with a sculpture interrupted everything. I looked at the piece and began to weep. Cyclebreaker, it said on the little card in front of it. It was about the struggle and the hope of resilience in breaking out of abuse. Nothing has ever moved me the way that piece did. Until then, I knew intellectually that art could make an impact. Now I'm feeling it.
Drawing and image-making has been an integral, continuous part of my life. So much so that I didn't appreciate art in terms of its impact. It was solely about utility or fun. I was expecting my art show to change other people. I wanted to inspire action to protect immigrant rights and to fiercely defend humanity, even in policies. I can't say whether the show did or did not do those things, but I do know how it changed me.
Many times I proclaim things like art is impactful,
or always remember humanity,
just because I want to believe that it's true or I want to remind myself of my values when I have a hard time retaining them. This show was a part of an experiment to see if any of this was real.
Thanks for indulging a three-part series about art and this art show. I fear many things right now, and I especially fear the loss of community and connection. I also feel a sense of hope because I was able to do a very difficult thing for me: reach out to my local community. I stepped into the role of the artist as the enemy by creating emotional pieces about topics that we don't like to talk about in-person (but will rage about online). It was a vulnerable event for me, and it was a vulnerable event for those who came, and we all did it anyway.