Talking Art (and pyjamas)
Standing up in front of a group of people explaining what you do and why, can be daunting. Even the thought of it is enough to make your stomach turn flips inside and out. Yet it can be one of the most rewarding parts of an exhibition because you get to make a connection between yourself, your artwork and any potential buyers.
I’ve found that talking about my work, whether to just one person or to a group, has proved to be a major selling point. Contrary to what many people tell you, art does not necessarily sell itself. If you have developed a reputation and a following, then sure, there are people who will want to collect your latest offerings.
When you are starting out or if you aren’t represented by a gallery, then you are often your own best marketer for your work. When people stop to listen about how you came to make it, the stories you tell suddenly give a greater insight into what the work is about. Not everyone reads that artist’s blurb on the wall!
I thought about this when I was titling a new piece which will be included in my exhibition at Oak Hill Gallery in Mornington. It had been sitting in my paper drawers, waiting to be brought to light in the right way. I had made several of these stitched paper pieces when I returned from an artist residency in France in 2018, but they were never resolved.
When I brought them out to look at them I remembered the stories of each one. How I found the pattern for pyjamas when in a church opportunity shop and fell in love with the illustration on the paper pattern. How I brought it home in my carry-on luggage and then made screen prints of the patterns, complete with the French language instructions.
This series of works was about my time spent at a former silk factory in Lasalle. During my time there I researched how the silk was made, the conditions endured by the unmarried women who worked there who were housed in dormitories. How it was a story which bled into the complex politics of royal decrees, of Protestant enclaves in the predominantly Catholic country and how all of this was about production of silk destined for luxury clothing in Europe.
I looked at the image again and the title sprang into my head The Cat’s Pyjamas – a phrase used to denote “a highly admired or exceptionally excellent person or thing”. It seemed a fitting title for luxury as exemplified by silk pyjamas. When mounted on a circular board the work was immediately resolved, becoming a vignette of time and place.
While I was thinking all these things I realised I had the beginnings of my artist statement which brought together three disparate series of artworks unified by the common thread of artist residencies about place.
There is only so much of a story you can write in an artist statement, especially if it is to be readable in under 300 words. Therein lay the seeds of an idea to propose an artist talk while I am at the micro residency at the Oak Hill Gallery. A chance to talk about my art but also to inspire others to think about applying for artist residencies as a way to extend their practice and bring to life the history and geographies explored by making work about place.
There’s plenty more stories to tell about my residencies in France and in Iceland, how I collaborated with a choreographer who wrapped himself in plastic to become a silk worm during our exhibition. How Louis Pasteur played an integral part in saving silk worm eggs from dying. How the trees that fed the silk worms make the best paper. Stories for another blogpost. Now it’s time to hone up my storytelling skills…