http://www.aaronschraeter.com
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Everyone Loves a Martyr
Often I find myself having to reaffirm things that are cliche' bits of advice from every mentorship that's ever existed in the history of knowledge-seeking. My latest body of work, Everyone Loves a Martyr, seems to deal with the pitfalls that these bits of advice address more and more as I continue to think about it.
As many of you are aware, I (much like many of my peers) am in a transitional period. I've finished my MFA, am switching studios, changing my living situation, and winding down my second full body of work from this calendar year. It's a lot, and all of it is intimidating.
All of that said, I have to admit that it wasn't until now (not this exact moment, but you get the point) that change isn't about getting used to things- it's about accepting those things as being the next step. Spending time worrying about being in a creative funk, or that your new space won't offer some of the old perks, are generated purely by comfort gone missing.
The paintings in my most recent body of works vary in relationship to the issues mentioned.
Works such as Heavy Limbs deal with "stuckness". Furthermore, in this case, there is the irony of having limbs which are typically used for movement but are designed to act as weights making movement impossible.
Push Me, Pull You deals with the desire to get away from these experiences. This comes with the inevitable realization that no matter how much we scrape our nails against the ground, and try to take off, our experiences follow us wherever we go. For better or worse, it becomes part of who we are.
Others, such as Pox deal more with trying to live with the pain and discomfort of change. Chunks are missing, body begins to erode, and yet the the posture is appearing strong, and the appearance of a halo is intended to act as a self-established sign of faith in things repairing themselves, as if to ignore the dissolving of structural integrity.
The advice I've prescribed myself is as follows:
•Fear should be reserved for things like that adrenaline boost you need to run from an exploding gas can- not a change of pace. Sure, this isn't a response that has its roots in logic, but it isn't impossible to take charge. In reference to the aforementioned loss of comfort- every once in a while you need to sleep on the floor to work out the kinks in your back left by a mattress.
•Change is an opportunity, not an obstacle. If you've just busted your ass on a body of work and it feels that it's come to an end, don't stop working. Take a chance to make some bad work- you'll find it's as valuable as the "good" stuff. Aside from that, everyone has failures. Anyone making art for any length of time has made bad work. Sure, some have made much more bad work than others, but it's the one's that learn from them that seem to carry on. Getting bogged down by how some things used to be makes it very difficult to discover the potential of a new endeavor.
•Things that don't work out well aren't a reflection of who you are. At the end of the day, we'd all like to believe that our work, or relationships, or what have you are an expression of our beings. At the end of the day, they're just segments of our character- a complete picture.
For more of the recent works, and those to come, visit HERE.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Why Colleges and Schools that Don't Have Art Programs Should
As May comes to a close, and June slowly drags summer along, what
seems to be my journey as a registered student comes to a close. I'm now
in that phase where I'm going to be obsessively checking the database
for my grades, consciously not going to the graduation ceremony, and
waiting for my diploma reading "Master of Fine Arts" to come in the
mail.
Of course, given today's economy, I'm having the standard "well, what the fuck am I going to do now???" problems. There is panicking, frustration, exhaustion, and admittedly annoying behavior on my part due to the aforementioned. That said, I'm truthfully not all that worried. I know that when push comes to shove, I'll find a way to not go hungry, and not just survive, but ultimately be satisfied and self-sufficient. To those who see no practical value in an art program, I owe this silver lining to participating in them for over 10 years now. Here is short the list of why.
1- Creative Problem Solving: Thinking Outside the Box, and Executing
The word "creative" is almost universally synonymous with the word "artist". Bottom line. The only problem here is that it's become such a cliche' pairing that most people in my experience don't seem to understand why. While most of my non-artsy compatriots seem to think that all it means is that we artists have the ability to make "cool pictures" or "interesting statements". My take on it (and I can only speak for artists, makers, and designers that act as object makers, since that is my vein of interest) is that artists are essentially charged with making something out of what appears to be nothing. We get tools, either an assignment or an idea, and we use our resources to make it happen. Granted, I understand that this is awfully paired down and simplified, but the fact is that those are the only two steps that are universal to this kind of effort. Depending on what you're doing, or where you're doing it, there will likely be limitations (money, space, time, equipment, the laws of physics), but it still requires ingenuity, creative spirit, and an attitude that says "I don't really care how you get this done- just make it happen." This is something that I've found in common with almost every construction worker, engineer, computer programmer, mathematician, or athlete I've ever spoken to- and it is a drive one develops in an art program.
2- Understanding Hard Work, Goal Setting, and Dealing with Failure
Creating something great, no matter what it is, isn't about already knowing how to make it. It is about facing the obstacles on the way to the finish line, and in spite them, saying "I'm still here." Many of my friends, who are all in either business or law school, don't have a good grasp on the level of difficulty being an artist (at least in an academic environment) can really be. Truthfully, they seem to mostly be under the impression that while they imprison themselves in a library, forcing facts and figures into their brains, I'm sitting around painting flowers with a beret and a glass of wine- false. If you don't put your time in at the studio in a meaningful way, it is noticed. It is a place where a grade isn't simply a measurable quantification of how many answers one has gotten right on a final exam. At the beginning levels, the art class environment is one where you're, rather than being measured on natural ability or talent alone, one is judged upon how hard they work. Did they work hard to produce? Did they fail? Did they learn form failure? Was there a clear sense of perseverance, and a hunger to succeed? These are questions I ask when, as a Teaching Assistant, I sit with the leading professor and evaluate the students we've been working with all semester long. Some are work-horses, some learn to care, and some never really end up giving a shit. That said, there is no room for apathy, quitting, or a half-assed effort. Not in my class, anyway. And for those who've always been groomed to believe that failure is not an option- it isn't always your choice. Everyone fails at some point, whether they know it or not. It is about how you gather that information, and use it advantageously for the future.
3- Experiential Learning
Allow me to preface this by saying that learning disabilities seem to run in my family. My mother struggled with them all through school, and it has passed it's way along to all of the kids in my family (some worse than others). Baring that in mind, the traditional form of learning through repetitive reading have pretty much never worked for me. It has always taken approximately four times longer to get through any of the readings my classmates have doing, and sometime down the line I just stopped doing most of them all together. That said, I had to figure out a way to take in the information I needed in order to pass my classes- after all, it's hard to pass a literature class without reading the literature itself, right? Well, I figured out that many of these classes would require one of the tools I learned through art making- learning through "experience". What I mean specifically, is taking the subject, visualizing it, discussing it with at least one other person understanding how it works, what it is, and the flow of logic. Now, comparing the flow of how fabric should fall over a rigid structure versus the flow of Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment are not a perfect comparison, but it's essentially what got me through Advanced Placement classes in High School, a BA with a large academic focus, and a Master's Degree- all complete with philosophy, literature, and art history intensives.
4- Detail Orientation, and Quality Control
In it's purest, simplest form making art is more or less about one thing- describing something. For those of you who are artists or art historians that just scoffed at that sentence, I get that it becomes more complicated than that, but bare with me. As I mentioned earlier, especially in drawing form life, there is an element of immersing one's self in something that becomes helpful when trying to turn a 2D plane into a convincing description of a 3D object (for those of us who are builders of sorts, the reverse can be equally difficult, if not more so). As I mentioned before, this is an aspect of art making that has been an invaluable source of enhancing my own research skills. Additionally, on the execution end of things, at several levels of art making, accuracy is absolutely essential. This is not necessarily (though it can be) in the sense of proportions or how much the object looks as it does it real life. As a professor of mine always says, "making art is all about creating a fiction". At the end of the day, it's the artist's (or whomever) job to take it step further and make us believe the fiction. Is what we're doing convincing, and why? Was the effort worth while? This bleeds into other subjects, as the root of it is essentially based upon building skills in finding the details, figuring out how to sort them, and making editing choices decisively and with confidence.
5- Observation and Communicating Ideas
One of the fundamental qualities of making work, for me, has always been about information exchange. Articulating an image, let's say of a person, is no good unless it is something other than just a cold figure. Who could the figure be? What is the expression of their face or body language? Assuming there is color, what does the pallet or tone say about this person? These aspects of creating an image of a person can also help the reverse side of the coin, in terms of receiving information as opposed to giving it. Understanding how to create personality, behavior, and mood through art allows us to pick up on those details when we see it in person for ourselves. In terms of practicing the delivery of ideas and information, there is the dreaded classroom critique: a forum in which everything you've made is out on display, to be judged, picked at, and (presumably) defended. If there is anything I've learned after over a decade of being on both ends of the hot seat it's this- more than anything, they are designed to keep you on your toes. They force you to think quickly, speak confidently in front of authority figures and peers, and inspires preparedness so as to not look like a fool trying to pry their foot from their mouth. The more these sessions occur, the more practice one has for an anxiety-ridden arena where success is often determined by a third party.
For a few more tidbits on the subject, visit this article on the Live Strong website.
Of course, given today's economy, I'm having the standard "well, what the fuck am I going to do now???" problems. There is panicking, frustration, exhaustion, and admittedly annoying behavior on my part due to the aforementioned. That said, I'm truthfully not all that worried. I know that when push comes to shove, I'll find a way to not go hungry, and not just survive, but ultimately be satisfied and self-sufficient. To those who see no practical value in an art program, I owe this silver lining to participating in them for over 10 years now. Here is short the list of why.
1- Creative Problem Solving: Thinking Outside the Box, and Executing
The word "creative" is almost universally synonymous with the word "artist". Bottom line. The only problem here is that it's become such a cliche' pairing that most people in my experience don't seem to understand why. While most of my non-artsy compatriots seem to think that all it means is that we artists have the ability to make "cool pictures" or "interesting statements". My take on it (and I can only speak for artists, makers, and designers that act as object makers, since that is my vein of interest) is that artists are essentially charged with making something out of what appears to be nothing. We get tools, either an assignment or an idea, and we use our resources to make it happen. Granted, I understand that this is awfully paired down and simplified, but the fact is that those are the only two steps that are universal to this kind of effort. Depending on what you're doing, or where you're doing it, there will likely be limitations (money, space, time, equipment, the laws of physics), but it still requires ingenuity, creative spirit, and an attitude that says "I don't really care how you get this done- just make it happen." This is something that I've found in common with almost every construction worker, engineer, computer programmer, mathematician, or athlete I've ever spoken to- and it is a drive one develops in an art program.
2- Understanding Hard Work, Goal Setting, and Dealing with Failure
Creating something great, no matter what it is, isn't about already knowing how to make it. It is about facing the obstacles on the way to the finish line, and in spite them, saying "I'm still here." Many of my friends, who are all in either business or law school, don't have a good grasp on the level of difficulty being an artist (at least in an academic environment) can really be. Truthfully, they seem to mostly be under the impression that while they imprison themselves in a library, forcing facts and figures into their brains, I'm sitting around painting flowers with a beret and a glass of wine- false. If you don't put your time in at the studio in a meaningful way, it is noticed. It is a place where a grade isn't simply a measurable quantification of how many answers one has gotten right on a final exam. At the beginning levels, the art class environment is one where you're, rather than being measured on natural ability or talent alone, one is judged upon how hard they work. Did they work hard to produce? Did they fail? Did they learn form failure? Was there a clear sense of perseverance, and a hunger to succeed? These are questions I ask when, as a Teaching Assistant, I sit with the leading professor and evaluate the students we've been working with all semester long. Some are work-horses, some learn to care, and some never really end up giving a shit. That said, there is no room for apathy, quitting, or a half-assed effort. Not in my class, anyway. And for those who've always been groomed to believe that failure is not an option- it isn't always your choice. Everyone fails at some point, whether they know it or not. It is about how you gather that information, and use it advantageously for the future.
3- Experiential Learning
Allow me to preface this by saying that learning disabilities seem to run in my family. My mother struggled with them all through school, and it has passed it's way along to all of the kids in my family (some worse than others). Baring that in mind, the traditional form of learning through repetitive reading have pretty much never worked for me. It has always taken approximately four times longer to get through any of the readings my classmates have doing, and sometime down the line I just stopped doing most of them all together. That said, I had to figure out a way to take in the information I needed in order to pass my classes- after all, it's hard to pass a literature class without reading the literature itself, right? Well, I figured out that many of these classes would require one of the tools I learned through art making- learning through "experience". What I mean specifically, is taking the subject, visualizing it, discussing it with at least one other person understanding how it works, what it is, and the flow of logic. Now, comparing the flow of how fabric should fall over a rigid structure versus the flow of Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment are not a perfect comparison, but it's essentially what got me through Advanced Placement classes in High School, a BA with a large academic focus, and a Master's Degree- all complete with philosophy, literature, and art history intensives.
4- Detail Orientation, and Quality Control
In it's purest, simplest form making art is more or less about one thing- describing something. For those of you who are artists or art historians that just scoffed at that sentence, I get that it becomes more complicated than that, but bare with me. As I mentioned earlier, especially in drawing form life, there is an element of immersing one's self in something that becomes helpful when trying to turn a 2D plane into a convincing description of a 3D object (for those of us who are builders of sorts, the reverse can be equally difficult, if not more so). As I mentioned before, this is an aspect of art making that has been an invaluable source of enhancing my own research skills. Additionally, on the execution end of things, at several levels of art making, accuracy is absolutely essential. This is not necessarily (though it can be) in the sense of proportions or how much the object looks as it does it real life. As a professor of mine always says, "making art is all about creating a fiction". At the end of the day, it's the artist's (or whomever) job to take it step further and make us believe the fiction. Is what we're doing convincing, and why? Was the effort worth while? This bleeds into other subjects, as the root of it is essentially based upon building skills in finding the details, figuring out how to sort them, and making editing choices decisively and with confidence.
5- Observation and Communicating Ideas
One of the fundamental qualities of making work, for me, has always been about information exchange. Articulating an image, let's say of a person, is no good unless it is something other than just a cold figure. Who could the figure be? What is the expression of their face or body language? Assuming there is color, what does the pallet or tone say about this person? These aspects of creating an image of a person can also help the reverse side of the coin, in terms of receiving information as opposed to giving it. Understanding how to create personality, behavior, and mood through art allows us to pick up on those details when we see it in person for ourselves. In terms of practicing the delivery of ideas and information, there is the dreaded classroom critique: a forum in which everything you've made is out on display, to be judged, picked at, and (presumably) defended. If there is anything I've learned after over a decade of being on both ends of the hot seat it's this- more than anything, they are designed to keep you on your toes. They force you to think quickly, speak confidently in front of authority figures and peers, and inspires preparedness so as to not look like a fool trying to pry their foot from their mouth. The more these sessions occur, the more practice one has for an anxiety-ridden arena where success is often determined by a third party.
For a few more tidbits on the subject, visit this article on the Live Strong website.
Monday, May 7, 2012
"How To Kill Your Imaginary Friends", and recent happenings
Hi everyone!
So it has been a while since i posted anything in here, but a lot has happened. I just got finished with a QCMFA group show at One Art Space (www.oneartspace,com) curated by Michelle Levy of the Elizabeth Foundation for the Arts, had my solo thesis show to cap off my time as an MFA, and gave an artist talk/lecture at Hunter College as part of their Focus and Motivation lecture series. As I prepare for things on the horizon I felt it was time to put the conceptual aspects of my most recent body of work, How To Kill Your Imaginary Friends, into a written format.
Let me start by saying that I understand killing one's imaginary friends might come off as confusing, counter intuitive, and over all macabre. That in mind, theses "friends" are not the childhood inventions most of us have used to prop us up when we feel lonely. Rather, they are notions, fears, worries, and judgements arrived at seemingly from the ether of society we live in. They are the personification of those things we think about that cause us to be apprehensive, irrational, or even inert when decisions have to be made and goals are set. Both in the experience of art making, and really anything else that requires making choices, honesty becomes an important factor.
Now, by honesty I don't necessarily mean telling your mom that you hate the sweater she got you for your birthday or sheepishly raising your hand when people in the elevator want to know whose responsible for the horrible smell. What I'm getting at is being able to make decisions that are true to one's self, not marred by what we project other people want, what their expectations are, or what makes us "good". The simplest example that comes to mind is about subject or material in making art. It isn't uncommon to ask a painter why they work on stretched canvas and get an answer like "because that's what people buy, right?" Though to most people that might not sound unreasonable, the real question is if it serves the work.
On the heels of that, this body of work has been about trying to make decisions based only upon what I felt would make good work. Easier said that done for a young artist like myself who has only recently had this epiphany. The voices would just keep seeming to find a way to creep in there, and ruin everything (side note, it should be explained that many of these things do come from a place unaccompanied by ill intent). With these obstacles failing to wane, I decided that I would kill off these voices the best way I knew how- literally. So with that, I used paintings and sculpture to turn my insecurities into physical beings that I would subsequently torture, maim, or kill. I would treat them like insects, stomping them out leaving foot prints in the ground. I would quarter them, crack their heads open, and as a warning to the others that were to come I would put their heads on pikes, boards, and hang them from fish hooks to keep them as trophies.
At the end of it all, I found some relief. I felt as though it was working, and that through my desire to get to making good, honest work by getting rid of the internal obstacles preventing me I was in fact making good work. When it came time for the work to be installed and shown, I had one last revelation about this body of artworks. A complete stranger came into the space, stopping in front of a triptych title Waiting for the New Guy (picture below). They turned to me and asked "so did you get them all?" At that point I realized that the void on the pike in the center panel was a symbol- I would never get them all. This was not simply a short term project to keep me busy, or an answer to a finite issue. This was something I, and really all of us, will always have to deal with- constantly working to voice ourselves, make choices, and be who we are unencumbered by the weight of judgement, fear of rejection, or all out failure.
Waiting for the New Guy, (3) 27”x32”, 2012
Until next time.
-as
So it has been a while since i posted anything in here, but a lot has happened. I just got finished with a QCMFA group show at One Art Space (www.oneartspace,com) curated by Michelle Levy of the Elizabeth Foundation for the Arts, had my solo thesis show to cap off my time as an MFA, and gave an artist talk/lecture at Hunter College as part of their Focus and Motivation lecture series. As I prepare for things on the horizon I felt it was time to put the conceptual aspects of my most recent body of work, How To Kill Your Imaginary Friends, into a written format.
Let me start by saying that I understand killing one's imaginary friends might come off as confusing, counter intuitive, and over all macabre. That in mind, theses "friends" are not the childhood inventions most of us have used to prop us up when we feel lonely. Rather, they are notions, fears, worries, and judgements arrived at seemingly from the ether of society we live in. They are the personification of those things we think about that cause us to be apprehensive, irrational, or even inert when decisions have to be made and goals are set. Both in the experience of art making, and really anything else that requires making choices, honesty becomes an important factor.
Now, by honesty I don't necessarily mean telling your mom that you hate the sweater she got you for your birthday or sheepishly raising your hand when people in the elevator want to know whose responsible for the horrible smell. What I'm getting at is being able to make decisions that are true to one's self, not marred by what we project other people want, what their expectations are, or what makes us "good". The simplest example that comes to mind is about subject or material in making art. It isn't uncommon to ask a painter why they work on stretched canvas and get an answer like "because that's what people buy, right?" Though to most people that might not sound unreasonable, the real question is if it serves the work.
On the heels of that, this body of work has been about trying to make decisions based only upon what I felt would make good work. Easier said that done for a young artist like myself who has only recently had this epiphany. The voices would just keep seeming to find a way to creep in there, and ruin everything (side note, it should be explained that many of these things do come from a place unaccompanied by ill intent). With these obstacles failing to wane, I decided that I would kill off these voices the best way I knew how- literally. So with that, I used paintings and sculpture to turn my insecurities into physical beings that I would subsequently torture, maim, or kill. I would treat them like insects, stomping them out leaving foot prints in the ground. I would quarter them, crack their heads open, and as a warning to the others that were to come I would put their heads on pikes, boards, and hang them from fish hooks to keep them as trophies.
At the end of it all, I found some relief. I felt as though it was working, and that through my desire to get to making good, honest work by getting rid of the internal obstacles preventing me I was in fact making good work. When it came time for the work to be installed and shown, I had one last revelation about this body of artworks. A complete stranger came into the space, stopping in front of a triptych title Waiting for the New Guy (picture below). They turned to me and asked "so did you get them all?" At that point I realized that the void on the pike in the center panel was a symbol- I would never get them all. This was not simply a short term project to keep me busy, or an answer to a finite issue. This was something I, and really all of us, will always have to deal with- constantly working to voice ourselves, make choices, and be who we are unencumbered by the weight of judgement, fear of rejection, or all out failure.
Waiting for the New Guy, (3) 27”x32”, 2012Until next time.
-as
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Into the Winter?
Hey all
Clearly, none of you are having any trouble staying warm... it's a balmy 40 degrees in late January...
ANYWAY, I thought I would send along some updates. First, and foremost, I wanted to thank Jake Remington for getting me in touch with the wonderful people at Art Pussy. Born Into This was a great experience that I hope we can build on for the future. It was a great success, and frankly my mind is still fucked from the "happening" as I've been calling it.
In addition to changes in my personal life, my studio life is going through yet another metamorphosis. In a weird way, I feel as though I'm now starting to get back to my roots. Time will tell for sure though. I am working on a new series called How To Kill Your Imaginary Friends in preparation for my upcoming first Solo Show (which will take place at Queens College). All will be explained in time. Expect to see some new paintings, as well as some sculptures, in the weeks to come. To see what I've been up to so far, check out my FACEBOOK FAN PAGE for photos, and meaningless status updates. Live long, and prosper.
Cheers,
as
Clearly, none of you are having any trouble staying warm... it's a balmy 40 degrees in late January...
ANYWAY, I thought I would send along some updates. First, and foremost, I wanted to thank Jake Remington for getting me in touch with the wonderful people at Art Pussy. Born Into This was a great experience that I hope we can build on for the future. It was a great success, and frankly my mind is still fucked from the "happening" as I've been calling it.
In addition to changes in my personal life, my studio life is going through yet another metamorphosis. In a weird way, I feel as though I'm now starting to get back to my roots. Time will tell for sure though. I am working on a new series called How To Kill Your Imaginary Friends in preparation for my upcoming first Solo Show (which will take place at Queens College). All will be explained in time. Expect to see some new paintings, as well as some sculptures, in the weeks to come. To see what I've been up to so far, check out my FACEBOOK FAN PAGE for photos, and meaningless status updates. Live long, and prosper.
Cheers,
as
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