I am currently in the middle of a photographic exhibition and am being reminded daily how they are always a challenge. The lure of seeing all your work at its best in one place is tempting. There is always the possibility that people will come and look at it, engage with it, and that something will be learned or gained in the process. You might even sell some!
However I always seem to forget just how much hard work is involved – and how making the work is just the start. You have to select pieces to show, frame and mount them, give them titles and labels, transport them to site, hang them and arrange the space so that it is inviting. Then there is the dreaded advertising and promoting, which today means social media. After all this, you have to sit with the work for days and welcome people and whatever they bring with them. Dogs and children usually, but also a range of attitudes. Some have come specifically to look at your work but the majority may just wander in.
The lovely bits
Of course there are magic moments when conversations spark and stories are told. Sometimes it is nothing to do with the art on show; sometimes it is so pertinent that it inspires further art. The most surprising people buy things you have made with their hard-earned cash. Others spend ages, talk a lot and leave without so much as a postcard. Impossible to second guess the big spenders.
Experiences like these give me renewed admiration for people who produce art as their main occupation for decades without financial or even appreciative success. It requires the most incredible will and drive.
I was watching a BBC programme about the remarkable 20th Century American artist Alice Neel recently and marvelling not only at her immense skill but also at her sheer tenacity. She worked unashamedly as an artist with the focus and single-mindedness that is required but rarely admired in women because it rarely spells good news for their family. What an extraordinary woman in any time, but for someone born in 1900, her work is almost unbelievable.
I feel like one of her revealing and deeply expressive portraits today – perched on my chair in a borrowed studio feeling a bit cold and probably looking a bit hopeful and a bit bored.
Studio 2, East Quay, Watchet. 16-22 April, 10-4 daily.
