The Raggedy Edges of the Art World

So, I went to this show....

I’ll call it The Raggedys Rapture, But I think it may have been “Slouching” or “Slumped.” It’s by Nan Curtis, artist.

I caught the last day of a friend’s sculpture exhibit. It was an artist’s coffee and conversation chat, to the side of an unfinished room—not exactly a warehouse, but close enough—where the sculptures have been on display throughout the past month.

A city is full of rooms, corners, open spaces, people sharing ideas, art and music and I am a huge fan of those creative conversations, particularly the impromptu, the open doors, where people mix it up. At this coffee talk, the artist and others talked about “non-Newtonian liquids,” which I’d given no thought to before, but seem cool as hell, and problematic for sculpting, ha! They change like slow moving water, pooling, operating as solid and liquid at the same time, like glass only more so.

The room was full of light and beautiful rock-like shapes, some organic materials, various things, but this Raggedy Anne and Andy setup had a particular whimsy. Are they moving up, or down? Are we meant to suspend our disbelief and not see the slim supports? Are they impaled? Are they transcending? I have no idea.

But the main feeling I took away was the joy of suspending judgement. The work isn’t mine. I let it be. I witnessed what another artist is making and chose to not critique. That choice is so freeing.

We live in a world of gatekeepers. In the arts, critiques are frequent and not always finessed. It’s so easy to feel like we’re all falling short all the time, and also judging others…. humans seem built for a hypercritical response.

I’ve been a professor and a critic. I’ve been an adjunct prof, too, grading as many as a thousand student papers a week. Grading can at times sink down to marking grammar…I’ve reviewed books and art and once in a while food. I’ve been through a nightmarishly contentious divorce, and court was a workshop from hell.

At the art show, I looked and listened and came away with just one image, but more ideas and peace. Creative work is built out of ideas, inspiration and craft. But it isn’t made with rigid rules and shared shame, being told you’ve got it wrong. It starts with mistakes, then comes to vision and perhaps slowly finds form.

I’m all for fostering the urge toward self-expression.

You are capable.

There’s process and there’s product, artist and audience, sentence and story. Let’s make good work, together.