So I think the title of this entry pretty much says it all–I’ve been freaking out like crazy over the past week trying to get my sh*t together for Artwalk. While art can’t fully be blamed–I have been dealing with other just-as-equally-nervous-breakdown-inducing stuff, like work and the GRE and the prospect of oral maxillofacial surgery–art has played a significant role. But there have been several times in the past few days where I almost said “f*ck it” and give up. Threw everything out, said screw Artwalk, didn’t show a damn thing.
I’ve been struggling to finish my goal of 10 pieces (reduced to 9 reduced to 8 reduced to 7…I definitely hit that point where I used to be the week before Burning Man, where you have x amount of projects but only 0.5x amount of time and so you just start culling projects from your list). It’s become such a rush that everything I touch seems to be going wrong and a lot of my recent pieces turned out too “crafty” for my liking and not at all the way I wanted. You know that a-ha moment when you know a piece is done? I can’t seem to get there with any of them.
Not only does it seem like everything I touch turns out terrible, but I’m also fraught with paranoia even if I do finish it–how can something churned out in a few hours or days over a weekend be Art? Not that time itself is a factor, but rather the idea that finishing something is more important than doing it right, or having it turn out to the best of your ability, rather than simply mediocre or satisfactory. At that point, isn’t it just product? How is it any different from sweatshop clothing or Ikea art? I know I’ve always been more of a product-not-process person, so if even I’m questioning the value of the product over the process, something must be off. And don’t even get me started on questioning my inner immoral disgust at attempting to place a price on and sell such products.
Some people might tell me to take my time, but honestly, this whole concept of pieces was conceived as a set, and to show such a thematic group of works really seems to me to preclude later straggling pieces. I also wouldn’t feel right making more pieces for a set later because I’d feel then hat the first show was incomplete in some way, a rip-off or gyp for the people who saw it the first time around. it sounds silly, I know, but I also know myself and my motivation and inspiration and after a thematic showing is done, I won’t be interested in making more pieces for that set; I’ll want to move on to something else.
On top of all that, there’s still the whole fear and self-esteem issues that I’m sure every person who creates art experiences to some degree: what the hell am I doing? Is it any good? Who will like it? What’s the point? Etc. It certainly doesn’t help that this is really my first time staging something like this. People who’ve done it before have told me that it gets easier every time, but it never goes away.
I’ve been trying to stave that off (or at least some of it) by telling myself (and others) that it’s just an experiment to see what happens. It’s like having a built-in excuse for failure: if it doesn’t work or it’s not successful, well, it doesn’t matter, because it was “just an experiment.” In a way, that was very freeing and I wouldn’t have been able to do it otherwise. I never would have been able to rebel against that little voice in my head that asks what is the purpose and point of making non-functional objects. And it’s been valuable too in that I’ve definitely learned some new techniques and improved some skills, tried some new things that I hadn’t done before, which were fun up until the pressure rose. But the experiment label is double-edged: If I’m not invested in it, then it can’t hurt if people don’t like it or don’t think it’s good. But if I’m not invested in it, how can it be successful despite that gap of distance and indifference? Not to mention that just because I try to tell myself not to worry because it’s just an experiment doesn’t mean I actually listen to myself and buy in.
On top of the top of all that art stuff, there’s the actual, physical work and coordination of preparing for Artwalk. Here’s a whole weekend where friends and strangers are going to traipse through my house. I’m not all that social to begin with, so I’m getting nervous about how well I might be able to handle such a situation. And while I don’t really consider myself a “slob” per se–I like to excuse away my lifestyle by explaining that I live in workspace and I’m here to do work, not live in the lap of luxurious interior design. But after I took some photos of my space to send to a friend who volunteered to help with some set-up, I couldn’t deny it–my place is a disaster and not only needs to be cleaned up for Artwalk, but probably needs a thorough pre-cleaning before set-up, just to save me from embarrassment in front of my friends. And although I’ve invited some friend to share my space to show their work at Artwalk, I’m starting to get just a bit stressed out about having to deal with their logistics and set-up as well as my own.
At this point, I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m still cranky and frustrated, but I know I’ll be even more cranky and frustrated if I give up on myself. I’ve been hesitating posting about Artwalk or sending out emails because of it, and I know I’ll probably be mad at myself about that too, later. But I feel bad encouraging people to come to my messy house to see some stuff I made that may or may not be interesting and listen to me be cranky.
I can’t wait until all this is over so I can go back to making functional stuff again. I’m sure I’ll be cranky about that too, but at least it’s a cranky that I’m familiar with…
