Saturday, May 9, 2009

In Response to Joerg Colberg’s “Defining One’s Work”


Joerg, over at Conscientious in Limbo while his webserver recovers from a crash, posted some thoughts on Defining One’s Work.

A lot of the points here are good ones, points that work for the majority of photographic work. I understand where he is coming from, having experienced much of the same frustration when trying to get students to open up about their work.

The student responses he describes are often associated with the fears and lack of understanding depicted. I’m always refreshed when someone is willing to say they are still exploring, to tell me what their gut has told them about the work, and help me understand that while they don’t have a statement, they are thinking. This is much preferrable to some kind of faux philosophical anti-statement stance – however, I know some work does not need a statement. Some work does suffer under unnessesary verbiage.

I think a lot of people don’t believe in the idea of “misunderstanding” work. Can work be misunderstood if one believes part of the art process is the myriad of interpretations a viewer brings to the work? What if someone believes that art is not about some sort of succinct communication (a view blasted into mainstream society by the graphic and commercial arts) and is instead about something more organic, more mysterious?

I love writing, but I don’t feel that it is always necessary for work. Sometimes the best thing about a photograph is that it is silent. Sometimes the best thing about a work of art is that it is confusing and overwhelming and there is nothing there to catch you, to stop you from coming to your own grasping conclusions.

Of course, in art school, this work is rare. On the internet, it’s common. On surf clubs and with people who work with appropriation, pulling things out of context is often of more importance than describing the new context.

Regardless, it’s always important to be able to talk about work. I can’t think of anything that can’t benefit from discussion.

Printing words makes them concrete in some way. If you are going to put a statement in a book or on a wall, there is a sliding scale. Some work needs only a title. Some needs a sentence. Some needs an extensive discourse. And of course, some needs silence. Don’t let yourself be forced into any position, but remain open to the idea of words with your work. It’s true that many photographic works benefit from some kind of lead.

Joerg continues this discussion here, and here, where he talks about an email from Bradley Peters on the dangers of overdefining work.

I feel that Joerg and I are coming at this from pretty similar standpoints, and he is right to point out my contrarian stance: I hope I’m at least an atypical refusenik (I’m lucky enough that my great grandparents were allowed to emigrate from the soviet union, haha). I love writing statements and talking about my work. I just hate absolutes, so if someone says that there needs to be an artist statement for work, I have to try and think of a situation where an artist statement would be detrimental to the work. It is feasible, I think.

When Joerg holds the viewpoint that a well written artist statement will never be detrimental, I find I want to agree. Perhaps my reluctance is due to the actual words “Artist Statement.” They come loaded, with certain gallery, art school, and system related connotations. I certainly think that words can work well with anything, but so many people have an idea of what an artist statement has to be. It’s possible that they are ignoring all the less predictable ways words can work with other art forms. I hope that makes some sense.

posted by Ian Aleksander Adams at 2:40 pm  

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