Monday, November 19, 2012

Galway Artists and the Death of Ambition

Riddle me this: how possible is it for an artist to make a living off their work in Galway city?

Impossible? Easy if you work hard? If know the right people? Are we going to assume that artists already have a clear idea of what it is exactly to make a living off the arts?

I'm not.

In my research on artists and business, I came across a terrific framework used in the following study: Investingin Creativity: A Study of the Support Structure for U.S. Artists, by the Urban Institute, 2003.

Based on interview data, polling and database creation on awards and services for artists, these six factors were determined to be what make up the essential support structure for an artist (this includes visual arts, musicians, dancers, actors, etc), that is essential for them to be able to earn money and keep practicing their art:

Validation: The ascription of value to what artists do.
Demand/markets: Society's appetite for artists and what they do, and
the markets that translate this appetite into financial compensation.
Material supports: Access to the financial and physical resources
artists need for their work: employment, insurance and similar benefits,
awards, space, equipment, and materials.
Training and professional development: Conventional and lifelong
learning opportunities.
Communities and networks: Inward connections to other artists and
people in the cultural sector; outward connections to people not primarily
in the cultural sector.
Information: Data sources about artists and for artists.


You'd think they'd teach this "biznuss theery" stuff in art school, in preparation for the big bad world or art? Nope. Sure that would make sense.

I have to admit that when I found this study and poured over it on the bus ride back to Galway, not only was I illuminated, impressed and giddy with excitement at the prospect of building more Galway-based research out of this, but I was also unbelievably smug to see all of my artist stereotypes and very "wrong" generalisations that I've acquired over careful years of observation become fact through the validity of a research paper. Absolute win.

And, lastly and critically, the “environmental approach of the Urban Institute's research leads us to use place as the organizing principle for our research and findings”.

On that use of “place” as the defining underbelly of the framework, it's time to challenge Galway's reputation for being an “artsy” city, if we're going to see how artists are expected to heat their houses and scrape the mould off their curtains this winter.

Super artsy Macnas Parade: good and creepy.

The belligerent title “Graveyard of ambition” has deeply disturbed the naive and idealistic me ever since I first heard it from the mouth of the collective cynic. I have always known Galway as much for it's activists, organisers, ralliers and ideas people as much as for it's compulsive dole-burners, whingers (ugh) and professional apathetics. Galway is just so fun and free, I had always thought. Galway has a constant magic in the air. This wonderful, a swirling cocktail of Excitement and Potential and some other mystical, addictive substances, shot through with street lights and neon, that hovers in a gaseous mass over Quay Street, stretching over the Corrib mouth and ends in a torrentous twister over the Roisin Dubh. This cloud is sucked in by the live musicians and exhaled in delicious smoke rings by the poets, writers and actors. But in the realm of visual arts, whilst I believe that vision is probably abound, real production is just....limp.

That's a good word to describe Tulca so far, actually. It's a bit...nyeh. Although I did see George Shaw, David Hepher (WOW) and Lisa Malone's really lovely work in the Galway Arts Centre which was very satisfying to my art taste buds. Also: the Galway Arts Centre is the weirdest venue for art shows that I have ever seen.

Now, the visual art is there, and it is there in some wonderful ways - see the gorgeous, properly visionary and up-to-date street art of Basqr and AKACrap (we tried to invite Basqr to come speak and teach an awesome street art workshop for ArtSoc last year, alas he has to remain anonymous otherwise the cops will get him, so sad). The art in Galway is also there in other, more obligatorily high-brow, conventionally art-world, totally publicly-inaccessible ways - courtesy of the hard work of the 126 gallery collective. These, alongside the Galway street artists, have made the most strong and noteable efforts at getting their art into Galway's face as individual movements of art culture. They even have blogs and websites which they update regularly, apparently some art collectives are considerate and sensible like that.

But, but...why can't there be more? This is what I'm always asking. Why can't there be more forms of art (there's more to art than just blotty, abstract canvases hanging in your living room and the whole paint-wall formula)? Why can't there be more art everywhere? Why can't more Galway artists be set free from stereotypical financial shackles and go mad arting their little hearts out? This is taking into account Galway's population size, which is not big Art-scene-Dublin for sure, but this is also considering the ratio of amateur musician, writer and playwright (and yes, they've all got their NUIG Masters to pay back) to layperson that Galway clearly posesses and struggles to support. Is the "Starving artist" stereotype/reality why the visual arts just isn't screaming as loudly as everyone else? Or are they screaming with bold new art, and they are just no where to be seen? (this thought actually kills me a little bit)

When I walk around Galway and breathe in it's magic, I want to see the Art House Tacheles (RIP), converted art spaces, abandoned warehouses jam-packed with artists, a bohemian, Castro neighbourhood with artists collaberating, experimenting, innovating and generally saving the world from apathy and despair.

The Shed is a really exciting new-ish artspace on the Docks. Sadly, it is still misused as a bizarro contemporary art space and dismal as hell on the inside. Each to their own like, but for such a central location they should have thrown the Occupy Galway guys in there and gave them a load of paintbrushes and found art, they would have collaberated and workshopped the fuck out of  that space.


I am all too aware of the legends of hovels of artists hiding away,in suburbs thousands of miles away from the action and connection of the city centre, working their asses off to remain alive in jobs that kill their artistic wakefullness. What if all these artists are failing to balance mortgage-slave life and artist life? What if they are giving up in their droves, under the pressure of  recession-fear and pressure to fall into convention? They could be dissolving slowly and painfully into this kind of disconnected lethargy (as our generation tends to do now), with any impetus to do work quashed by a sick and dying self-esteem, never picking up a paintbrush again? What if they really do spend their time hanging around Neachtains pub bitching about the Arts Festival excluding local artists, whilst not innovating or researching to combat the obstacles they face? What if all they need is a little hope and a lot of business acumen? I certainly know artists who fit these descriptions, and I know more young artists who are in real danger are taking up that same slow miserable march away from the hopes and dreams and away from their divine vocation to make people happy. And there must be scores more, if the discharge of 100 art students Cluain Mhuire GMIT Art college emits every year says anything about professionally-trained artist surpluses in this city.

Sigh. This is all very upsetting.

Is this our reality for artist graduates?? Also do watch this film/read this comic, it's very good.

To finish off my part-investigation, part-diatribe into the struggles of the hypothetical new and energetic young artist settling down their roots in the cutest and artsiest city in Ireland (which may or may not be a real person and may actually be me and not hypothetical at all), here is something very simple and very brilliant from the wikipedia book Business and Artists to stick in one's pipe and smoke:

The artists' labour market
The labour market for artists is characterized by four things in particular:
There is an extremely unequal income distribution within the market segment. A very small group of people earn a high proportion of the total income.
There is a structural excess supply of labour. There are always more people who like to earn their income as an artist than there is demand for them.
There are intangible returns to labour, so that people accept lower wages than their qualifications would earn in a different market.
Non-separation of artist and work. The image their product gives them, is important to artists.

This isn't cited or proven per se, which annoys me, especially as a former law and economics student, but it is brilliantly simple. It is a good, clear place to begin, along with the help of the in-depth analysis of the American study above. What I would love to do is verify this with real data first off, Galway-centric naturally. Then I would like to do something to educate struggling and frustrated artists about this reality (God knows the art schools don't bother with this tedium of commerce and technology, that's why some of us decide that business school may be a better option than art college) and, crucially, work to eventually rebalance the supply and demand graph for artists in this city. This involves encouraging artists to move off the traditional fine-art, painter and ceramic specialisation and finding new, morecommercial artistic specialisations to suit artists that are needed by consumers and business people (whether they know it yet or not, as the capitalist genius Steve Jobs would say). As I hope to uncover in my research, the art of a country reveals so much about the happiness and hope of the nation itself. The lives of her artists reveals surprisingly a lot about the health of the economy. On this micro to macro level, the story of art in Galway reveals just how tragically unbalanced our entire economy is and how our entire labour force, extending far oustide "the arts sector", is negligently disproportionate.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Tulca Visual Art Festival and the Outsider

Tulca and their logo have this really attractive urban, scratchy, film-reel feel to it. It's a good representation of my Galway winter; nostalgic, foreign and exciting in that urban way and cosy.


I feel like going to Tulca is mostly a formality. It's cultural and it's high-brow and I love art exhibitions and meeting enthusiastic artsy people so much but...I get the sinking feeling that it won't light my artsy fire. That I'll be dissatisfied. Another cynicism bomb dispells. Mostly because, besides giving in to my basic artistic tastes, I am always on the look out for two more things when I peruse a visual arts festival;

1. Public accessibility
2. The triumph of young local artists over the recession and over Art-World conventions

It would be totally unreasonable for me to suggest that the creators and instigators of Tulca didn't think to represent these in their festival. In fact, they did; I read the curator's piece in their programme. They're doing this whole theme of Landscape this year, which I am all over (as long as it's urban, of course, otherwise it's figurative art all the way). However I will be mercilessly hawking out the festival for the various gradients of these two factors, because that's my pathology. And Tulca is a fairly traditional and publicly funded arts festival and is not going to be nearly as accessible for the public and and youth-art-innovating as...my...dream arts festival...would be...

I'm approaching this with the gait of a real outsider, who has a measured interest in art and art shows, but is unfamiliar with any of the artists or the conventions in place. But who, all the same, knows what she wants.

Tulca Artists I'm looking forward to:


For all of the artists I searched whose name did NOT immediately pop up in google with a catalogue of your work; you should be thoroughly ashamed.

All of these artists feature the following tags – cities, decay, technical work, nostalgia. That's my melting pot of art-awesome right there. As beautiful as a Brazilian. As for the other artists in the festival, the descriptions in the lovely free booklet either didn't sway my interest or were far too dense and honestly, I got incredibly bored reading them. I'll let that speak for itself, really. I'll stay open-minded because art is great the way it does that to you and I will report back if I discover an absolute diamond in the rough.

In the artists I've chosen to get excited about, they feature visual art and photography. Not much video installation or sculpture.

I gotta say: I'm not big on video installations. They just don't do it for me. I appreciate video installations in this very forced and pained way, like I how I would react to one of our many aging relatives in nursing homes across England telling a mumbling, long-winded, dithering story that certainly has a lot of personal and historical importance and wisdom but invokes no interest in me whatsoever; “Oh, that's nice. That must have been a challenge at the time. Ooh. Obviously a lot of effort went into that endeavour. I appreciate your attempt to communicate with me and probably try and teach me something.” etc.

Of course I have my own wee gripe and bias about video installations being Versus-with-a-captial-V public accessibility. Video installations, along with performance art, serve as those very broad generalisation stamps that immediately give the elitism and hipster-ism labels. This of course isn't fair but, alas, public relations are public relations and artworld tropes are artworld tropes (can't wait until I can get into researching the meat of this reality, a la Sarah Thornton and her Irish equivalents).

Aideen Barry is an Irish performance artist who is really fucking cool and fantastical, however. She opened the ArtSoc exhibtion in 2010 *smug*.

I am already itching to do some gallery-hopping (oh the bliss) and I am also pining a bit for my amateur Galwegian artists and art admins who are as of yet undiscovered and un-art-festivaled and who lounge dejectedly in their mouldy semis exhaling pure gaseous Potential (one of the principal elements on the Artist Periodic table. Yes I will make an infographic of that) into the atmosphere, which I bottle and then breathe in surreptitiously at night time underneath my duvet.

The opening night itself was yesterday, I got some photos on the old camera phone, and had lots of wine like I had hoped.



Two pieces in particular stood out at the opening reception:



This is just mad.


It was all a bit too networky for me now BUT I was quite thrilled to be able to introduce a few people from various arty sectors in Galway too each other. It's always very encouraging to see art students from the local art school not clinging to each other and hudding in a ball of social awkwardness and seeing them chatting to that local youth art group that get a shit-ton of local funding or the to the various organisers and art show instigators. Yep. Great when that happens.



Saturday, November 3, 2012

What I Want To Be When I Grow Up



It has happened much sooner than expected. I'm getting a cheap-ass room in my beloved, most beautiful, inspiring and craic-filled Galway city and I AM MOVING BACK.

YES.


Beautiful, beautiful Galway. Graveyard of ambition and spiritual birthplace of the craic.

Well, I'm unofficially a Galwegian again. That is to say, I will still be working for Dr Gomez MRCPsych. That means that I'll be doing a Magellanic commute every week. Why am I moving somewhere where I not only do I not have a job, but that's four hours away from actual and current job, you ask? Am I completely insane? Galway is awesome. It has awesome people and awesome places and awesome activities. And, well, despite all my intentions to solidly be there and help out the familia in their time of need, unfortunately my continual presence in the house has added somewhat to the mania. Mammy Gomez has counteracted the “mammy guilt”. It's a common stress disorder that is caused by children going home after college and living there for over 6 months, whilst appearing to be doing nothing with their lives. Reading the Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole will give a good insight into the typical mammy figure versus the typical child instigator of said disorder. Although I do like to think that I'm slightly more helpful than Ignatius Reilly. And yes of course it was reported upon in The Psychiatrist only last month.

Being a psychiatrict journal, it has imaginative covers only rivaled by those of the NewScientist magazine.


The only known cure for this disorder is to move out and report back to mother with tales of promotions and financial stability. This cure doesn't seem to include the successes of blogging, working on my novel/screenplay and building myself up to make digital art that she cannot see. Alas. So I will quasi-move out but keep coming back up to Donegal to work every week, because Dr Gomez's appointment book and filing system would miss me terribly. And I have built up the most charming rapport with the solictors.


Solicitors to psychiatrists has the same effect of wooden crosses to vampires



With this dramatic change in geography and reemerging with civilization, I finally can get into the meat of this blog's purpose: alongside tracking my own personal journey in Returning to Art, I get to begin the research and the reporting of Art Careers in Ireland.

So, yeh, this is the stuff I love. I live it, I breathe it, I can't get enough of it. I love seeing artists get work. "Artists" ranges from plain old art-artists who do twee Irish landscapes to hip young graphic designers to actors and comedians to singer-songwriters to conceptual designers to lighting designers...ooh I love them all. I just fucking love all of them. I love to see artists just be able to do what they love whenever they want, whether they can make a job out of their vocation (not always possible, not always suitable for some personality types) or by getting some kind of part-time job arrangement to make their private art-studio escapes after work possible (and this can be detrimental to others). And when all this happens to an artist in a recession...in a PIIGS country like Ireland...well, I could just die and go to heaven.

And the latter category is what I want to eventually achieve in Galway. Or anywhere, really. But it would be so incredible to have it happen in this city.


This is what I wanna do for The Rest Of My Life:
  1. be a jack-of-all-trades artist, specialising in comicbooks, illustrations, cartoons, and graphic design.
I want to be that person who sees my friend's novel or comicbook dialogue sheets or hears about their general artsy idea and goes “YES YES that is fucking incredible, let me do the illustrations/web design. OR let me hook you up with someone who can do your idea total justice. This idea MUST SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY.” Which leads me to my next inter-linking passion...

  1. be an Art Consultant/Art Agent
I want to link artists with the people who want them and need them. I find this to be super fascinating because art agency and art consultation as industries in Ireland seem terribly hidden, clandestine, “who you know” and practically invisible to an outsider. This observation is of course based on a lot of google-searching. And VAI newsletter combing. Ireland as an economy isn't nearly as populous or teritary-in-nature enough to allow for such a profession to exist autonomously, like it can in the likes of London, Paris, New York or Berlin. We're just too small and...poor. And there aren't enough players in the art market to connect. Well, actually no, there aren't enough artists and art-demanders who are connect-able, if you catch my drift. They're there...somewhere. I truly believe that there are definitely enough good artists and enough demand for their skills to just about achieve an equilibrium for the art/design market in Ireland. I know it and I can feel it. They just need more ways of finding each other. And then they can make beautiful business together (yes this is a collosally big subject and I will expand on it later).

I couldn't find a cheesy picture of lots of artists shaking hands with businessmen, but I found this book and it looks really cool.

I'm looking forward to figuring out how to eventually do both of these jobs in my favourite city in the world. I'm looking forward to the research I'll have to do to get a firm grasp on the art market in Galway and in Ireland (in whatever strange form it exists in). Time to whip out those economics class notes, those management notes might be actually useful too...accounting notes will definitely useful.

My plate continues to pile up here, but I'm also looking forward to starting a super-comprehensive minimum-wage, part-time job search in Galway to keep me just above the bread-line (Dr Gomez's salary isn't near enough to cover our expenses). That in itself will be super important when it comes to getting a good on-the-floor feel for the Galwegian micro-economy and the permeabiltiy of it's levels of industry (from foundation(?) service industry to elitist culture industry, oh ho).


Oi. It's going to be a busy few months.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Fires and Boxes of Tissues

A lot has happened in the bosom of the Gomez clan.

As I spend my office hours in the doctor's surgery downstairs type type typing away and recording the deepest despair of mental illness in cool, clinical language, my family upstairs has exploded. The phone calls began and this contagion of bewildering tragedy suddenly splintered across the Atlantic and the Irish sea to afflict more Gomez's. The as-of-yet un-scathed Gomez's across the globe board up their windows and hope to wait out this hereditary plague.

When personal tragedy and hardship hits families, as is inevitable, it hits them like a tsunami; hard, heavy, and one thrashing wave after the another. Then it leaves the residual flooding, the electric fires, the power outages and a major life readjustment.

And yet, somehow, when things seem so desperate and numbing, there are straws to be clutched at.

My artistic flame has kept alight. In fact, against all sense of decency, it has ignited. Like a firecracker.

I know these aren't firecrackers, but it's a Halloween-irony thing

The thing is that I don't struggle to get my creativity going anymore. At all. This is incrediby hard for me to believe. I really accepted for a while there that the fairy muses had finally given up on me. I wouldn't blame them; my decision to study Corporate Law probably didn't do anything to make them feel welcome. I was very much the lost cause of art inspiration. I sat through a few years of Art Soc classes sitting at my sketchpad like a zombie, supressing low squirmings of jealousy like maggots inside my gut. I eventually stopped attending them entirely and dabbled with the Arts Admin side of things instead.


Now, anything gives me ideas. Markings on the wooden floor, bites of the news, splinters of sentances, jewelery on a news reader's neck, flashes of scenery out of the car window, the shape of someone's nose, flies caught in the lamps, shreds of tissue in the washing machine, half collated fragments of memories, the shape of a box...

When I have a moment of repose, like when I sit on the bus for a consolatory Galway visit, the ideas just pour out and explode and sizzle and evolve over and over. For hours. I can't keep up with it.

The glorious Feda Bus from Donegal to Galway. Four hours of boring? Not anymore.


I am constantly reaching for my phone to record slivers of ideas, stories and dialogues in my drafts folder (of course, about 30% of these ideas are pure brilliance, the other 70% are strange, questionable shite). When I squeeze my mobile back into my skinny jean pocket, I will have invariably thought of another entirely unconnected idea and have to squrim all over the seat to maneouver it back out again. Derp.

I'm having a genuine Degas moment, in the sense that I'm falling in love with everyday life. It's like being a child again. There are stories spilling out from under the doorframes, whilst the sadness barks in through the windows.I will definitely have to research this as it feels like a definite phenomena - shock to the system induces long-anticipated art attack? I won't like what this already seems to suggest.

Before deciding that moving back was more financially viable, I had seriously considered a good stint of hermitage. Cezanne style, in the middle of Beautiful Fucking No-Where. I came home to discover the origins of my artistic process, to get the addiction back and let the bug bite and drink deep. Cezanne painted glorious rocks and fruit, space and dimension. The good, hard stuff of being. I will have to be like water.

The Gomez family explosion continues unabated. I feel a little like I'm 16 again, blocaded under the stairs, listening to power metal, and scribbling away furiously out of my Buffy comics to cope with the anxiety of the formative years. There is now a strong sense of powerlessness that pervades everything.

I am always less powerless when I am arting.

The momentum has started, for both ideas, and arting, and art blogging. The synapses are firing and glowing urgently.

So I keep filing, making labels, calling solicitors and trying to be cool and professional (they could employ me one day, better look good, the dreary and boring Heron says), making appointments and keeping the box of tissues stocked. In the office and in the house. I will keep being here for the Gomez's.

Whilst the mugs of tea pile up, I will keep gratefully idea gathering. The fairy muses are being generous to me now. The planting and harvesting of the finished products, however, will have to lay in wait. I trust that Gods of Diligence will appear in a shower of stars and toss me into the field with my arting boots on when the time is right.


(You are absolutely welcome for that Ted talk link btw. And you thought the Ken Robinson one was good? Pah!)


One of those work in progress. Massive antipation towards inkscaping it.  Never stop believing!