Do and Doing

Posted by Carole Loeffler on July 13, 2010
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Part 4 of 4 from guest blogger, Carole Loeffler

What do I want to leave you with as my final post? I guess the big question is, why do we do this thing called art? If I can paraphrase answers from Six Feet Under (season 3), “I make art because I’d die,” “I make art because I have a lot of pain,” or from a Google search – “I make art because I love myself,” somewhere else stated, “We should make art to stop epidemics.”

I make art because I am miserable without it. I also make art because I love to see my thoughts – some of which I didn’t know I even had – come into the world. I make art because I want to see something new and surprise myself. I make art because. I don’t subscribe to overly romantic or dramatic ideas about why I make. I just do.

There have been moments when I questioned the act, dance and business of being in the art world. Reading artist writings has always been important to me – it is a way to see the process in another way – to begin to understand an artist’s mind – to gain knowledge from someone that they might not otherwise share. To hear about getting into the studio work from someone “in the trenches” is invaluable. I would love to share with you one of my favorites pieces below.

A letter from Sol Lewitt to Eve Hesse:

Dear Eva,

It will be almost a month since you wrote to me and you have possibly forgotten your state of mind (I doubt it though). You seem the same as always, and being you, hate every minute of it. Don’t! Learn to say “Fuck You” to the world once in a while. You have every right to. Just stop thinking, worrying, looking over your shoulder wondering, doubting, fearing, hurting, hoping for some easy way out, struggling, grasping, confusing, itching, scratching, mumbling, bumbling, grumbling, humbling, stumbling, numbing, rumbling, gambling, tumbling, stumbling, scrambling, hitching, hatching, bitching, moaning, groaning, honing, boning, horse-shitting, hair-splitting, nit-picking, piss-trickling, nose sticking, ass-gouging, eyeball-poking, finger-pointing, alleyway-sneaking, long waiting, small stepping, evil-eyeing, back-scratching, searching, perching, besmirching, grinding, grinding, grinding away at yourself. Stop it and just DO!

From your description, and from what I know of your previous work and your ability; the work you are doing sounds very good “Drawing-clean-clear but crazy like machines, larger and bolder… real nonsense.” That sounds fine, wonderful – real nonsense. Do more. More nonsensical, more crazy, more machines, more breasts, penises, whatever – make them abound with nonsense. Try and tickle something inside you, your “weird humor.” You belong in the most secret part of you. Don’t worry about cool, make your own uncool. Make your own, your own world. If you fear, make it work for you – draw & paint your fear and anxiety. And stop worrying about big, deep things such as “to decide on a purpose and way of life, a consistent [sic] approach to even some impossible end or even an imagined end” You must practice being stupid, dumb, unthinking, empty. Then you will be able to DO!

I have much confidence in you and even though you are tormenting yourself, the work you do is very good. Try to do some BAD work – the worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let everything go to hell – you are not responsible for the world – you are only responsible for your work – so DO IT. And don’t think that your work has to conform to any preconceived form, idea or flavor. It can be anything you want it to be. But if life would be easier for you if you stopped working – then stop. Don’t punish yourself. However, I think that it is so deeply engrained in you that it would be easier to DO!

It seems I do understand your attitude somewhat, anyway, because I go through a similar process every so often. I have an “Agonizing Reappraisal” of my work and change everything as much as possible = and hate everything I’ve done, and try to do something entirely different and better. Maybe that kind of process is necessary to me, pushing me on and on. The feeling that I can do better than that shit I just did. Maybe you need your agony to accomplish what you do. And maybe it goads you on to do better. But it is very painful I know. It would be better if you had the confidence just to do the stuff and not even think about it. Can’t you leave the “world” and “ART” alone and also quit fondling your ego. I know that you (or anyone) can only work so much and the rest of the time you are left with your thoughts. But when you work or before your work you have to empty your mind and concentrate on what you are doing. After you do something it is done and that’s that. After a while you can see some are better than others but also you can see what direction you are going. I’m sure you know all that. You also must know that you don’t have to justify your work – not even to yourself. Well, you know I admire your work greatly and can’t understand why you are so bothered by it. But you can see the next ones and I can’t. You also must believe in your ability. I think you do. So try the most outrageous things you can – shock yourself. You have at your power the ability to do anything.

Sol

Thank you for reading. Carole

www.caroleloeffler.com

www.rumbleinthedistance.blogspot.com

Up and Waaaay Down

Posted by Carole Loeffler on July 06, 2010
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Part 3 of 4 from guest blogger, Carole Loeffler.

The life of a creative person is a lot like riding a roller coaster – there are ups (that can be scary yet exhilarating) and there are downs (which can be lower than we ever thought). There are also moments of “I can handle this – it isn’t too bad” – just  along for the ride.

What do you do to get yourself out of a creative block – the “low” of the roller coaster ride?

I used to spend time at a bookstore quenching my thirst for all things art. These days – being a mom of a two year old makes those lazy browsing days few and far between. I go where a lot of other people do…the internet.

I love to look at etsy – I am so inspired by what people make. I am not so sure it links directly to my work or my process but I know it inspires me to get into the studio. To DO.

I also read a lot of blogs. One of my favorites is Philadelphia photographer -  Zoe Strauss’s blog. She reveals her editing process and her thoughts behind so many topics in her life. I admire her intellect and unpretentious nature.

There are a few books that I turn to if I am in a really low LOW – if surfing the internet doesn’t work.

Art and Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking  by David Bayles

The View from the Studio Door: How Artists Find Their Way in an Uncertain World – also by David Bayles

The classic – The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron – this is a great book for artists no longer in school but in need of some direction and “assignments” to get back into the studio.

The point of this post is just to say that we are all on the roller coaster together. We all need to find our own way to get back on top.

Carole Loeffler

www.caroleloeffler.com or www.rumbleinthedistance.blogspot.com

Exhibiting Art in Philadelphia

Posted by Carole Loeffler on June 22, 2010
Guest Blogger / 1 Comment

Subtitle: Coming Home

Sub-sub title: Learning to Slow Down and still be productive

It has been 5 years since I moved from Southern Illinois to Philadelphia. I have been invited, juried into and participated in exhibitions that I wouldn’t have known about or been eligible for if I was not living in Philadelphia. I had more exhibitions while living in the mid-west – most of which I never saw in person. The landscape is so expansive that I often had to ship my work. Since moving to Philadelphia, I have had fewer exhibitions, intending to utilize the resources in the region. I have also been able to install and experience my most recent exhibitions in person.

I used to feel antsy in the mid-west, like somehow I was going to loose my creativity or ability to exhibit. In Philadelphia, I am surrounded by more art and artists. I no longer feel antsy (even when I am not making). I think it is because art is more a part of my everyday life here. Or maybe because I feel like I am living in a place that feels like home.

I have had a variety of exhibition experiences since relocating to Philadelphia including working with not-for-profit art centers, institutions of higher learning, community organized exhibitions and alternative artist-run galleries. I am an advocate of exhibiting in a variety of venues, from well-known galleries and museums to artist cooperatives. I like to think of each exhibition as a learning experience and a challenge. It is also important for me to get my work outside my studio and see it in a different light – literally and figuratively. It is good to support a variety of venues because you can connect with people in a variety of communities. When choosing new venues that may not have a lot of information available – meet with the people and “feel them out” trust your instincts. I don’t really believe in the old school idea of “being discovered”. BUT, exhibiting at a variety of venues gets your work seen by a variety of people…that may have interest in it, want to exhibit it, want to buy it (if that is important to you).

As an example – I submitted a proposal for the well-established Window on Broad project at University of Arts. My work, Infestation, was installed in October 2006. I was recently asked to participate in a thematic exhibition developed around the idea of the Sitting Room taking place in fall 2010 at the Philadelphia Art Alliance. I was asked to participate in the exhibition because the curator saw my work in the Window on Broad project 4 years ago!

The Window on Broad is a highly visible venue…people walking by see the work – it doesn’t take an art crowd to go inside…this is what appealed to me most about the venue. Well, besides the fact that designing a “window display” itself. I urge artists to put your work in a variety of exhibition venues because it can change the way you see your work and allows different communities and audiences to see it too.

I have recently become to realize that an art career isn’t a sprint. It won’t happen over night and will last longer than 15 minutes. An art career is a marathon. It is about longevity, building connections, having the work evolve, finding supporters, shifting context for the work and learning from the entire process – all of the ups and downs.

I used to have this idea that as soon as I graduated a golden road of opportunity paved with museums and galleries would open up. What I have come to realize is that the road is there but it must be built brick by brick by me and that it WILL happen – just a little more slowly than I anticipated. I will use Louise Bourgeois’s 78- year art making career as a model (she died last month at the age of 99). Or the story the tortoise and the hare. I’d rather be the tortoise anyway.

Find out more about Carole Loeffler at www.caroleloeffler.com.