As this series of letters approaches a minor milestone, they have become their own section. These letters expand the public perception of my activity, filling in the wide blanks left by writing articles on artworks and books. They provide momentary glimpses into the workings of the mind that originates all the other content here, and vast swaths of unseen content in other parts of my creative life. Through these letters I hope you will be able to trace the movement of my mind, like one might use GPS to track the route of a ship across the oceans. They are also each a thread, inviting questions and other responses. Hopefully there will be more participation in that regard.
I’m trying to find new ways to be myself in writing, a practice that despite years spent actually writing, I had yet to truthfully accomplish. The concept hammered into me by my creative writing teachers was that if you put enough of yourself into whatever creative endeavor you made your primary output, there would be no further need to expunge personal details. Yet in the absence of that, and in making critical writing my practice, I have begun to feel the need to speak more directly about the tasks that challenge me as a writer. There is an assumption in the art world that the critic exists solely to serve venues by providing critique as a means of expanding the reputation of exhibited artists. Shortly after I launched my Substack, I was approached by some gallerists looking for “a review” and I had to inform them that this was a passion project, an opportunity for me to investigate artists and artworks as part of a dialogue with subjects, rather than a rote activity meant to serve them. I received the expected silence in response. I have written many reviews in my time, and catalogue essays, and other works for hire of which I cannot speak. I still write them, but not here.
As someone for whom writing has always been important, I knew from the start that I could write about art, although it took me some time to feel worthy. We put obstacles in our path so that we can find ways to eliminate them. But this depends upon the size and amorphousness of the obstacle. It can be as small as a sentence and as large as the immeasurable quotient of one’s self doubt. The lack of an appropriate platform feeds such insecurity. One can write books full of content that never get seen. What is of primary importance is to give substance to that moment of aesthetic recognition that John Dewey called “having an experience”. An encounter with great art not only raises our expectations for the kinds of experiences we can have, but it challenges us to have a role greater than we’ve ever had before. To have a role is important, though not more important than the pure act of writing on a worthy subject. To bring clarity to the experience of art, and to narrate all the qualities that emerge from this experience, that’s what I want. To have, as the saying goes, some skin in the game. To do anything well is to risk not doing it well, to not speak to others, to not fulfill one’s role. Risk brings reward. I hope that you enjoy my writing and are at times moved by it. I am working on some great essays here.
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I'm glad to see this post getting more views days after it was published. It's gratifying to know that my writer's thoughts may get as much attention as my writing about artists or authors. Please let me know who you are, and what you think!
I'm glad to see this post getting more views days after it was published. It's gratifying to know that my writer's thoughts may get as much attention as my writing about artists or authors. Please let me know who you are, and what you think!