fbpx

Category: The Usual Suspects

Posted on

Shouting into the well

"Untitled," by Carol L. Douglas.

“Untitled,” by Carol L. Douglas.
Sometimes we do work that is very important to us, but the public reception seems lukewarm or nonexistent. It feels like you’re shouting down a well for all the good it does.
That happened to me when I finished my series on misogyny. I felt very bleak when it was closed down after a few days. Now I realize you can’t judge the public’s reaction by the feedback you don’t get. Still, silence is terrible.
Barb Whitten was a tad dispirited on Friday night after her opening for The Usual Suspects. Attendance was very low. I was being my usual annoyingly-positive self, pointing out that there were office buildings along Water Street and people didn’t need to go inside PopUp 265: A Fresh ArtSpace to see the work; the whole installation was visible from the street.
"Untitled," by Carol L. Douglas.

“Untitled,” by Carol L. Douglas.
I told Barb about a workshop student of mine who had commented on my blog post about her show:
“This will be an interesting and thought provoking art opening! Art reflects life, and helps us to empathize and consider the rights and the wrongs that so many in society are experiencing today. I would like to be able to go to this opening, just to talk with and listen to others, and reflect on the issues together. It could be scary and messy but we all need to face the messes our country is experiencing and pray for God’s wisdom as to how to heal our land.”
She couldn’t be at the opening, but she’d told her Facebook friends about it.
Sunday, Barb got a phone call from a perfect stranger, who said:
“I saw the number on the window and just wanted to call and tell whoever was responsible that I think it’s one of the best things I’ve ever seen and a really good way to address and call attention to the things that are going on in our world today.”
And then I got an email from a reader, which said, simply:
“Brilliant work.  The whole planet is still in shock, confusion, disbelief.”
"Begger," by Carol L. Douglas.

“Begger,” by Carol L. Douglas.
This is a three-part message, then.
If you see art that moves you, talk about it. It makes a difference to the artist when the audience is engaged. He spent days, weeks or years creating his or her half of the dialogue, and we’re all cheated if it turns into a monologue.
Art really is more than painting pretty lighthouses for money. I make no apologies about painting landscapes, but there is a subtext to art. It can’t be jammed solely into an economic impact statement.
Don’t assume that if you don’t get immediate feedback to your art, nobody is listening. Because I write this blog, I’m in a position to hear a lot of comments. People are far more engaged than you’ll ever know.
Addendum: The Rochester (NY) Democrat & Chronicle recently interviewed me about figure model Michelle Long. It’s a nice piece and can be read here.
Posted on

Marriage, learning, and dissatisfaction

Barb tightened down the last strip before we left for the night.

Barb tightened down the last strip before we left for the night.
I spend so much time doing other things that one could be excused for not believing I’m married. In fact, we have been pursuing this fidelity lark for 36 years. There have been long stretches of conventional living, spent raising kids, paying mortgages, and pursuing careers. However, we’ve never been inseparable, even though we prefer to do things together.
When my husband left for band practice on Thursday night, our houseguest asked me if I was going to go with him. That sort of surprised me, because I couldn’t imagine using my time like that. My husband helps me when I need help and vice-versa, but we each have our own work to pursue.
This week, he’s on the road and I’m home in Maine. When that happens, I exercise a vicious double standard. I can camp on the road somewhere and I’ll check in as soon as I have cell service. He’s just going to a Hyatt hotel in a large city, but he’d better call me when he gets there or I’ll squawk until he checks in.
I chose ladder duty. I must be nuts.

I chose ladder duty. I must be nuts.
One thing about not living in my partner’s pocket: when he asks for help, I jump. When he realized—in Freeport—that he’d forgotten something important, I changed my plans and met him to deliver it. Yes, I was doing something equally important at the time, but our special relationship dictates that he takes priority. That’s not a gender-role issue; he would do the same for me.
This meant I had to tell my friend Barb that there was a glitch in our plans to install The Usual Suspects: An Ongoing Investigation, opening on November 11 at Pop Up 265 in Augusta. She’s not feeling well and the delay made her very nervous. Still, we got the main structure in place by the time we ran out of steam, and I have to say, it looks nice.
I was helped by having no expectations or emotional engagement. I was seeing her idea for the first time and it was exciting. She just saw the ways in which it failed to meet her plan. If you’ve ever helped a friend clean, you know exactly what I mean. For you, it’s a lark; for your friend, it’s all wrapped up in emotion and ownership.
The painter's equivalent to an installation is the Big Framing Project for a solo show.

The painter’s equivalent to an installation is the Big Framing Project for a solo show.
My husband has heard that exact same pessimism from me as he’s helped me frame work for shows. It’s almost impossible for artists to see the work of our hands objectively. My daughter Mary told me that every time I finished a painting on my Canadian trip, I announced to her that it wasn’t that good. I’ve learned to not share that initial discontent with the public, but it’s hard to keep it totally to oneself.
We only made one significant error hanging Barb’s panels (our initial spacing of the magnets). That was nothing short of miraculous, since the figures were intended to be evenly spaced around an old room with uneven walls and more than a few obstacles. If you’ve ever wallpapered in an old house, you’ll understand exactly what I mean.
In so many things, the learning lies in the doing. The best a teacher can do is steer you away from pitfalls. Often, your hard-won knowledge is task-specific, never to be used in that form again. But as it joins your sum total of knowledge, it informs you in new ways. Take those young-wife tasks of my misspent youth—wallpapering and sewing. Both helped me as I helped Barb.