Art can be a deeply personal thing. After pouring yourself into your work, showing it to the wider public can be a daunting task.
What will the response be? Have you achieved the message that you were attempting to impart? Will people simply walk away confused or worse still, outwardly sniggering or diss-ing your works worth?
I recently attended a local art show and took the time to walk around and analyse each piece. There were certainly pieces that I connected with more than others, but those that didn’t necessarily resonate with me, I didn’t simply dismiss, I asked myself why I felt this way. It wasn’t a matter of deciding this was bad and this was good, more along the lines of which particular styles and techniques that I did or didn’t connect with. This is not to say that it doesn’t hit home for someone else but I used the experience as an opportunity to better focus my own thoughts on style and techniques that I could perhaps look to explore in more depth.
This internal discussion was interrupted however by two quite loud and obnoxious people who were making some pretty bold statements about what they thought was just plain bad and ….. well, that’s about it. They basically were going around and slamming as many pieces as they could with the air of being offended by everything on display being so very beneath them – the guy in particular. The woman with him seemed to be there only to laugh agreeably like your standard sidekick to the school bully. And like most bullies, this guy seemed pretty keen to make sure everyone knew his thoughts on everything on display and how it would presumably pale into comparison with what he was producing – of course of which absolutely nothing was on display to be summarily critiqued.
Now the question has to be asked… did he have his work on display anywhere where it could be critiqued as intensely as he was doing. I would suggest not. It’s easy to take pot shots from the outer when you aren’t required to back up your bravado. Bad form I thought, bad form. I left pretty disgusted, hoping that none of the artist whose work copped a spray was nearby to hear it.
It was a month or so later with this experience still etched in my brain that I tentatively sidled up to the Royal Adelaide Show submission table with a couple of pieces that I had done, unsure about the whole process of passing the work over, and even more unsure whether I even wanted to do it at all – I was losing my nerve. Seeing some of the other work being handed over for judging only increased this anxiety as from what I could see, it only serve to convince me that I was well out of my depth.
I managed to negate my way through the submission process and was on my way, hoping the proceeding week would pass without too many people I knew finding out I had some work on display for fear of what they might say or how they might react.
I was as surprised as anyone to see on the Adelaide Show website that I had actually been awarded first prize in both the classes that I ended up entering, and was unwilling to accept the result without going in and seeing evidence of this first hand.
After wading through the crowds of onlookers milling around various stalls and exhibitions, I finally came across the art section. I could see a older couple looking intently at one of my artworks and I pulled up short, not wanting to come within earshot of what they were saying for fear that they must be questioning the judge’s mental capacity.
It was an unnerving experience for someone who is never quite sure where what they are creating will sit in the world. I managed to negotiate my way through the time spent in the art section without hearing any negative comments from anyone, although plenty of positive ones from friends we were with (I’ll take it!).
As the week passed, the prouder I felt about my achievement. Not so much the first prizes – although that is definitely a real positive jolt to my confidence, knowing I finally feel like I’m heading in the right direction – but more importantly I threw my sole out there and survived.
Turns out the sky didn’t fall.
Who’d a thunk it?
