Creating, Promoting, Archiving

There are three principle tasks of an artists: to create, to promote, and to archive. For all artists, the percentage of time spent on each activity varies and evolves over a lifetime. I've increasingly found myself spending more time on the archiving stage, and while doing this found that I needed to push myself to do more of the important business, that of creating.

The definition of each isn't always obvious and clear cut.

Creation

This is perhaps what most people think as the main job of an artist, to make new things.

Of course, in practice nothing is completely new, but a mish-mash of various influences (well, every influence) but the principle job here is to make new art, a new creation worthy of putting your name to it. At first, it seems like anything will suffice for this. We visit an art 'workshop' and follow the teacher's instructions, or we feel inspired and make something, we celebrate and are happy.

We might be commissioned or asked to make something; so much the better, but perhaps here the task is more difficult because we must please a third party as well as ourselves. Should we try to please the client, or ourselves, or both? Or perhaps try to please the public too and push some sort of boundary, and can we ever please both anyway?

Promotion

Promotion is the part that most artists dislike, and I've yet to find an artist who thinks he or she is good at promoting their work, yet most working artists spend far more of their time promoting their work than creating it. Think of a rock group or music artist. These typically write and record an album of songs in a few weeks, but spend the next several years promoting it. As a visual artist, I spend far more time taking paintings to different exhibitions, competitions, sending images online and all sorts of things, far in excess of the time to create the work. This is necessary partly because all artists, as opposed to craftspeople, have the luxury of creating anything that our heart demands. This means that, however much it means to us, we must spend time communicating this passion to the public.

This itself is part of the art, after all art is an act of communication between artist and audience. An unseen painting is not art, and the context an artwork is viewed in (or experienced in) is a vital part of the art itself. Vincent van Gogh's work cannot be separated from his life and his letters; his life is part of the art, and as such, so is promotion of an artwork.

By knowing this, promotion isn't a chore that interferes with the creative process, but an inseparable part of it that is an essential component of being an artist. It is curious then, that in van Gogh's case, as with all deceased artists, this was done by others. This makes all art a collaboration, but then, art always is, even if only between a sole artist and a sole viewer.

Archiving

The great film maker Stanley Kubrick hardly made any films (such is the life of a film maker) but has a vast archive of them, built from many copies of his films which were shown, lost, relocated, and stored. Over the years, this was (and is) painstakingly stored and catalogued, and this process is something that all artists must do to some extent. At the start, we create a small amount of work, easy to store, but over time this task becomes more complicated, and, sooner or later every artist realises the need for a catalogue of works.

After this, work might need restoring or (more shockingly!) updating. This is because we all learn and improve over time, and at some point we can see how older work might benefit from our new super-skills. How ugly our ancient daubs look or sound or read! This is shaky ground for any artist. So often, the earlier work stands on its own better than any old-new hybrid; but it is inevitable that as time moves on, more and more time is spent on caring for old work than creating new work.

One aspect of the archive is the 'greatest hits' phenomenon. Remember our rock star? Promoting that new album might have meant a two year tour, but almost all successful musicians end up touring for most of their lives, and performing old hits for decades. Every so often a pop-star will re-release their old work, remastered or remade in some way.

As artists age, it seems that they prefer to refine existing work to a higher and higher degree rather than invest time in new work. Perhaps this is a form of Kirkegardian angst; that its easier to tinker than face the void of creation? Perhaps this is a unique factor for musicians. Many visual artists keep making new work, although even great artists like Picasso seemingly fail to innovate. We all grow to become specialised, and even the most inventive and original artists still grow to become experts in the thing that they invented. Our brains shape into the trees which we nurture, their branches set to our chosen path.

Yet, all is not lost. Every creation is new, and many artists reinvent themselves or explode with creativity in later life. Some of Dali's best paintings were made in the 1980s, facing death. Richard Strauss, Havergal Brian, both artists enjoyed new resurgences in their 70s. Perhaps they had the advantage of a spotlight at last, and the need to promote was less important as that need to create.

Mark Sheeky, 6 June 2019