When you leave university you are left with a lack of space, a lack of tuition, a distant ache when you wake, and nowhere to go but the desk that’s next to your bed. You end up in your bed and before you know it you are on series 8 of Friends.
The artist you thought you were is clashing with the artist you think you should be(come). Questions arise, are you even an artist at all? Without the context of the institution, without a context at all how can you be an artist?
Art college, the place that you associated with creative production is gone. You’re scratching at the walls trying to make sense your new context and the progression of your practice. And then the dreaded question comes: “So, what do you do?” I used to answer this with “oh, me? Not much really…” The first time I plucked up the courage to say: “I’m an Artist” they responded: “oh yeh? What do you paint?” A context is realised.
The decision to start painting for me was a way to articulate myself without breaking the bank. I had no access to workshops and a student loan. I was pulling other peoples paintings out of skips, sanding them down and painting over the top. I saw my paintings as proposals, preliminary to the art but art none the less.
With the time constraints of juggling jobs, painting was a way for me to go to the studio and leave having made a piece of work. leave having articulated something, anything. But I had forgotten I was a builder by nature. I needed to physically feel something. Now I had become constrained to a surface that leaned lifelessly against the wall. Of course not all paintings are lifeless, but mine felt lifeless. I had forgotten myself, why I needed to make work and what I demanded of my practice. I had managed to sustain a practice but lost sight of myself within this new context.
My brief spell as a painter wasn’t a pointless waste of time. I came back to my old way of working with renewed enthusiasm. My artistic identity crisis taught me more about my practice than plodding along would have.
I think its important to keep momentum to your practice when you leave university. Painting was my way of doing this. It’s also important to let your work breath after the intensity of degree shows. So it’s about finding a balance. Give your practice some space and but also don’t forget why you make the work you do.
Retaining and sustaining your practice is a question of resilience. Not loosing sight of the things that make you tick, and continuing conversations that run through your practice. Build, make and realise your new context. Respond to your context, make work about your context, adapt.
When I left university myself and eight other graduates started a research group called CaW. CaW explores the proposition that fine art practice per se is a model for resilience. CaW’s activity is a critical evaluation of our experiences as we all try to sustain our practices in the wider world beyond university. We performance resilience though the form of a choir, a football team, hosting dinner party’s and building sandcastles. Really we are a support system for each other. We provide each other with the encouragement to sustain our own practices. We call these therapy sessions ‘complaining as practice.’ Maintain the
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