Work of Art

They say that fortune favors the bold.  Maybe I spent the better part of two months visiting the shrines of art's own Lady Luck, but at the end of the day, I'm a child of God, and God helps those who help themselves.  That means I had to start putting my money where my mouth wanted to be, and both make my art and put it out there.

Small Benzaiten shrine found on the corner up the street a few blocks from CLOUDS

Now it isn't like I'm starting all this from ground zero.  My class last fall produced some work that I wasn't totally ashamed of (and one piece that - now that I've resolved all its issues - I'm damned proud of), and my Nihonga paintings are coming along.  The problem is that since graduating with my pair of BA's, I haven't really tried.  Nearly the entirety of my involvement with art over the last 14 years has happened in my own classroom.  I really had no idea how to get to the other side - instead of looking at others' work, having people look at mine.  So I asked my good friend, Google.

He pointed me to Tokyo's pretty active art scene.  One of the things I enjoyed most about my course last fall was participating in critiques with my classmates, so I signed up for the Art Byte Critique group first.  Along with the actual critiques (in which I couldn't take part this month due to a conflict with my day job), they post open calls and other art events on their Facebook page.  While I couldn't win an artist residency if I tried, participating in contests seems manageable.

I say that now, but when I first started digging into their page I was in Mongolia, far away from all of my materials, and although I was able to lay down the groundwork for my entry in CLOUDS Art+Coffee's competition, I couldn't actually get started on it til I was back at home with my gouashi (yes, that's right, I've brangelina-ed my media of choice).  I spent the following week hurrying home from school so I could get started working ASAP, feverishly trying to finish in a week so I could deliver it to the gallery on my Sunday off.*  And then when I did, I discovered things work differently than I was expecting.  Apparently I should have emailed for all the details, so I would have known to deliver it a week later, and how much the entry fee was.  Oops.

(By the way, if you're reading this and you haven't voted for me yet, go vote now by clicking this link.  Consider it a way of paying me back for all the hours of free entertainment you receive from reading about my misadventures.  Unfortunately these days being successful relies on how involved your friends are willing to be as much if not more than on how good you are).

Speaking of which...one of the problems of going off on this venture is the super awkward part where I have to meet new people.  It's less that I hate people (this time), and more that I'm enough of an introvert that most of the time people are optional.  Nevertheless, the next thing I decided to try was PechaKucha.  This is an event that actually started here in Tokyo, and has branched out all over the world.  On a PechaKucha night, presenters show 20 slides for 20 seconds each while they talk about their work.  I think of this as the sorta-networking equivalent of going on a blind date to the movies - even if your date sucks, you won't actually have to talk to them for two hours. 

Photo courtesy of PechaKucha Tokyo

My first PechaKucha was actually the 156th since its inception.  From what I understand, normally it is artists and designers talking about what they do, but this was a special event - for this "PowWow" they had presenters from all over the world talking about PechaKucha in their city.  During the two hours I was there I talked to all of two people, but I figure that's a start.  I left before the end, because I had an hour's ride on the train between me and home, but luckily the organizer for Yokohama was one of the presenters I got to listen to, and it's a shorter commute home from Minato Mirai than it is from Roppongi, so another awkward night is probably in the cards.

In fact, another awkward night came along the following weekend - the opening reception for the contest at CLOUDS.  The school had its festival that morning, so I was slightly sunburnt and sweaty, and Koenji is pretty far from Yokohama, so I was flying solo (although if by some miracle I win, I'm guilt tripping everyone into coming with me to THAT opening, which they should anyway because Koenji is a fun neighborhood).  It was a little surreal seeing my art on the wall, but also good.

The honest to goodness truth, though, is that all of this is incredibly daunting.  I feel like an outsider, in spite of spending my adulthood going to galleries, teaching students day in, day out, and actually holding two student shows in galleries in UB.  Walking in alone, both to PKN and the opening at CLOUDS, was terrifying in a way that I can't even quite explain, as if somehow everyone there was weighing me and finding me wanting.  However, since I've never been one to let my fear stop me from doing things, you get to look forward to more posts about how awkward my attempts to transform myself into an artist are. Of course, maybe it won't be that bad.  When I end up in a workshop with a group of art teachers, usually I manage to get along and hold my own.  I guess I'll see if it holds true when working alongside other artists this Wednesday night when I go to Dr. Sketchy's Anti-Art School - a life drawing event where burlesque dancers model which takes place in a bar (I know, sounds fun...try not to be too jealous!)  Even if that's a bomb, the next contest I'm entering is taking place in Germany, so if my drawing is accepted I won't have to worry about feeling awkward at the opening reception, since I won't actually get to go to it, and honestly, that's kind of a relief.

*At least not now...perhaps I'm developing a new retirement plan that involves traveling the world by making art at different residencies...  Perhaps by then I'll actually be a good candidate for one.
**Half-assed Mormons like me look forward to our semiannual General Conference, which is broadcast from Salt Lake City and is viewable online.  Thus, a Sunday off.