What Defines Artistic Success?

I recently had my first mini-solo public art show at a local gallery, MosaicARTS, here in Northern Virginia. I would like to take a moment here to reflect on the show and whether or not it was successful.

Since I began my artistic journey as a child, I have always just made art for myself. I make things because I need to explore some idea, to meditate, or to work on a skill. The art that I have sold is usually from a private commission. Occasionally I sell paintings that I made for myself that someone else loves too. Again, I sell those through private sales. Until recently I have not publicly shown my work for a number of reasons. The main reasons being that I wasn’t sure if the work I made for myself would translate to a public viewer and that I wasn't sure I could manage the workload of making enough paintings to show as a group and be a mother. Many people do this, however I am the main caretaker for my children who are still young and “high needs.” I hadn’t yet tried the plate juggling act of parenting and working full time.

Then I met Van, who owns MosaicARTS with her sister, Lyn. They are absolutely advocates of other artists and dedicated to helping emerging artists find their footing and gain confidence. (I will talk more about their gallery in upcoming posts as they have some great new shows coming up!) A new friend invited me and another friend to come see her show that was currently on view there. We ended up staying for nearly an hour talking to Van about art, the local art community, and about our practices. It felt so invigorating to talk to fellow artists and I realized being holed up in my house every day was maybe not as healthy for me socially. I really enjoyed our conversation and hoped that we would talk again.

Soon after Van emailed me about considering a mini-solo show of my watercolor portraits. I decided that it was time to take the chance on myself and see if I liked publicly sharing my work. How would people respond? Would anyone want to buy it?

The Blue Coat was a mini-solo exhibition of five 15 x 20 inch watercolor and gouache paintings alongside their charcoal drawing studies. Here is what I said about the paintings in my artist statement,

“Clothing and fashion carry much meaning: outwardly seeped in cultural context, history, and class, and inwardly as we repeatedly choose our favorite items based on personal preference. I have this blue coat. It fits me perfectly and seems to be warm enough no matter the weather. I’ve worn it through having babies, nursing, and moving internationally. I’ve worn it in times of sadness and joy. This coat and I are on a journey together, it is aging as I do. When I wear it, it brings me comfort and warmth as I venture into the unknown.”

I also wanted to convey the meditative quality of putting on the coat every day. The repetitive familiarity of getting dressed. I painted myself getting dressed in the blue coat, through the perspective of a mirror, the viewer as mirror. Then one of the paintings it looks like I am talking to someone outside of the frame. In this painting I hoped to include the viewer not only as mirror but as part of the conversation. As if they were with me. This was the first time I was able to collaborate with someone else, Van, to show my work, talk about it, and consider the viewer and whether they have a successful experience connecting the concepts that I presented.

At the opening reception, the feedback I most often received on my paintings was “wow, you just don’t get this from the pictures” in a very positive way (I definitely need to work on my photography skills!). There were several art exhibits opening at the same reception and each artist got to have a brief talk about their work. I was terrified to do this, talking in front of people is not something that comes naturally to me. Not only that but to really drive the coat experience home, I wanted to include a performative aspect to the show. Again, not something usually in my comfort zone. So, just before it was my turn for the artist talk, I walked over to an empty hanger, and with much care, took off and hung up my blue coat. The fear of a public performance, talk, sharing, slipped into an adrenaline rush of excitement because almost immediately it sparked conversation and connection.

People came up to me afterwards to share their own Blue Coat stories about living as expats or about having to leave home. They wanted to share their stories too! They knew I wanted to listen. The work evoked a conversation and I started to feel a sense of community. Many friends went to go see the show later and sent me selfies of them in front of my paintings wearing their blue coats. I loved it!

Several friends came to the opening reception who had never been to an art gallery before. They surprised themselves and enjoyed looking around at the other artists showing and talking to people there. The kids especially enjoyed it and ran around pointing out their favorite pieces to me.

However, not a single piece sold. While many people commented that they really liked it, or they were moved by it, they were worried about buying a painting of someone else. Portraits were a risky move. Portraits are the hardest thing for a gallery to sell.

So was it a successful art exhibition? My parameters were one, not having the experience to know if I could manage my time wisely, two, wanting to present a professional and well thought out exhibit for the gallery, three, I didn't know how friends, family, people I didn't know might respond to my work. Would they make an emotional connection to what they saw? Did they understand what I was trying to convey? Did they even consider it “good”?

After thinking about all of this over the last month, I consider the exhibit to be greatly successful. I gained a lot of confidence in myself as a professional artist. I also realized that I really love the interaction with the viewer and I loved being able to talk to others about art. It reminded me that there are a lot of creative people out there who are also looking for community and for someone to see and hear them. I want to be a part of that.