"Notes from the Submerged" Essay Series - #2, Coco Papy

I started this essay series out of frustration with only being exposed to the outliers or artists, who were traditionally successful in school. The reality for the majority of us is that it isn't easy making work, trying to pay the bills, and finding an audience. Bill Guy wrote the first essay in the series and now Counter-Rejection Artist, Coco Papy, writes about her experiences.

As I sit here, forming the very beginnings of this essay, I’m thinking about what I could say that would be the most effective, the most honest, and the ever dreaded “ what will make me sound like I know what I’m talking about “. And while pondering about how I can articulate all the things that I think are important on working, living and being an artist, all I really want to do is cruise the internet for funny cat videos, semi-deadening myself to the fact that I just worked a fifty hour work week in a city, that like a spouse, I love, yet drives me insane sometimes. This is not a complaint, more a fact. As artists, the holy grail that validates us is the idea that we will strive and struggle and then one day, like magic, we will be able to give up our day jobs and make art in our studios, be rewarded with successful gallery shows and live in a loft in SOHO, just like all the“ real “ artists. While this seems to have set the precedent for the past few decades, I happily accept that there is a reality beyond this ideal.

As artist, we have a lot on our plates. We worry if we will ever “make it“. I have personally not decided what this means to me, but I am excited that it does not always involve what has been typically presented. The basic foundation of our ideas on what it means to be successful, I find that you spend years unlearning. Sure there are truths in there – it would be glib to try and convince you or myself that I do not want some semblance of a traditional, successful artist career. But I do think that we have to start looking at the way things have been presented to us with a more disconcerting eye and realize that maybe not all the things we have had drilled into our psyches are right, wrong or even matter. And while I explain some of the things that day by day, I try and integrate into my life and my practice, they are in no way guarantees of success. All I can guarantee is that they may help you and serve you for building up strength that is needed for mapping out the long haul that is making art.

* Try not to resent your job or the fact that you have one. This I think is the most complicated one. Having a day job seems to correlate with somehow not being successful or serious as an artist, which to be very frank is absolute horsecrap. Having a day job, like death and taxes, is going to be a very normal part of an artist’s life. And this can be hard because you do have diminished time in your actual studio or maybe you are not making the money you would like and can’t buy supplies or perhaps there are aspects to your job that make you feel like you are dying on the inside. Your role as an artist is to try as hard as possible to find something that works well for you and bring yourself to a positive headspace. I say this with interpretation, as we are in one of the worst economic times and we can’t always be picky. Bad jobs, annoying coworkers and mundane details will happen. But while these things will change for either the better or the worst, you will always be in the equation. Changing your own perception about having a day job will help immensely. Try and find something you like doing and realizing the potential at your job. Day jobs are not a sign of failure, no matter what Holland Cotter or your professors have said.

* Work your ass off. Get in your studio now. Send out applications now. Put your work out there. I do not care if you’re tired. I am tired too. We are all tired. But you cannot move from where you are now unless you put one foot in front of the other.

* Relax. Funny to get to this point from that point. I recently had a bout of what I call T.A.E.S (total artist exhaustion syndrome). I didn’t want to make art, work on the business end of it, write about it- nothing. I think there is a certain amount of guilt we ascribe to not working all the time, but it is incredibly important to realize that we need to recharge our batteries, to break out of our artist mindsets and know that there is life beyond the importance of what we are doing in our studios. I see no way to continue to think abstractly and critically- to passionately work the second job that is being an artist without giving yourself a break and realizing that you are human. You will do everything you can and that is good.

* Reach out to the artistic community. Being an artist can be incredibly isolating. We stay in our studios, we work, and we are often an asocial bunch. But being in a vacuum isn’t going to ever really help you out. Reach out to artists, whether it is the ones you are in a show with or someone you just really admire. They might respond, they might not, but the idea is to realize there are other people out there with a similar struggle and love. This is how we learn and how we eventually, if we are lucky enough, form incredible relationships with people who understand where we are coming from and why we keep going. It also gives you all the gossip on who isn’t doing right to artists.

* Rejection will happen. It’s okay to grieve, but then pick up and keep going. Often its not about your work, it's a culmination of many random things. This was never clear to me until I experienced what goes in on picking people’s art. When I worked at a gallery, we only picked artist that the artist we were showing knew. When I have had the chance to help curate shows, it became not about whether the artist’s work was “ good or not “, but “ will this fit into the narrow scope of interest we are trying to represent “. In talking with artist peers who are often ten to twelve years my senior, you hear about how long they had to work before they even were noticed to prove that art is what they were dedicated to and that they had built up enough experience in making and showing work. When you are exposed to things like this, you realize there is so much more going on behind the scenes. Try to never take it personal, but as I type this, it’s like asking every artist to give birth to a baby, nurture it and then ride it to the bank only to be told no thanks. Of course we will take it personally, our work is an extension of ourselves. But as hard as it is sometimes, especially when the entire world just seems to be saying no, do not stop. Being an artist is being comfortable with the word no.

* Don't worry about the hype. Be aware of it, it helps, but just do your own thing.

* Be business savvy. Seriously, take a class on taxes for artists, get a website, learn how to put together a real artist packet, learn to negotiate. You are your business. I know this takes a lot of the great stuff about being an artist away, but it’s also a very realistic view of what an artist is going to be doing the majority of their time. Especially as emerging artist, as we are set free from the forgiving and nurturing environment that is art school and let loose on the beast that is reality. Sometimes, we have such an insatiable hunger for success, we don't realize the things that can hurt us as artist.

* You do not have to live in New York. New York is an amazing place that I love living and working in. But it is not the end all, be all apex of the art world. Sure there are many things that it offers, but it also has its drawbacks. It’s expensive as all hell, the art scene is difficult to penetrate, space is lacking and everyone and their mom wants the same success as you. Use the tools and the community that you have to grow and decide what type of career you want. If you want to move to New York, come on down. If you want to stay in Chicago, Atlanta, Berlin – etc. then do. Be where you are and make what you love making- then utilize every resource available to you. Often, I am more attracted to artist from outside New York because the work isn’t similar to the work that's being made here. Being able to bring different perceptions to the conversation is a huge strength.

I realize that life is much more complicated and nuanced than just following this advice and it becoming better. We all have been sort of dropped down in a forest with no map and expected to come out on the other side. Figuring out how to map a career that has no real rules, much less map out our day-to-day existence, our finances and our other relationships can seem overwhelming. And if you are curious, I struggle with the very same things listed not even two paragraphs above. There are days where the very nature of what I am creating, the career I am hoping to carve out and my own self , are so bogged down with doubt and fear that it seems so much easier to give up making art and quietly settle into something that can give me stability and retirement money.

But I know its not so black and white and as time goes on, the shades of grey get larger and larger, and the idea of a “ career “ and a “life “ and what really being an artist is, become intertwined with all the other things that we will be dealing with. Fear does subside and it will rear its ugly head again and again. There will be times that being an artist seems like the worst possible choice you have ever made. Money will be tight and then it might flow, you might be the next Dana Schutz and then maybe not. It’s unpredictable and all you can do is prepare yourself for what might come by being well adjusted and hard working. Well adjusted means being okay with going to that day job week after week, or being broke or being told no. These aren’t things we should glamorize, just know that they are going to happen – play the hand your dealt.

I have a quote on my desk at work from a commencement speech by one of my favorite writers David Foster Wallace, who I wish had half the writing chops of. It deals with perception and how we often forget about what we have as opposed to what we don’t. It goes “ These two young fish are swimming along and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says "Morning, boys. How's the water?" And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes "What the hell is water? "

Take a deep breath and keep making your work.

Coco's blog and website

Working Artist - an essay by Bill Guy

This is the first in the series, "Notes from the Submerged." Bill Guy (a participant in the Counter Rejection show) writes about the challenges of making art, while teaching at three different schools and working at an office part-time. He gives some great advice for students and artists struggling to find time to make art, while working full-time. To see more of his work or read more of his writing check out his new tumblr project, My Apartment, his portfolio site and blog.

If I learned anything in graduate school it’s that good art takes time, commitment, and patience. There is a process to it. And while that process can differ from artist to artist, it is never like waving a magic wand. The problem occurs when an artist does not have the resources, either time or monetary, to make the work that they want to make or any work for that matter. How does one deal with this dilemma? So often people treat their art as “fame or bust.” Or, I either devote all of my time to art making and I’m given the time to do so, or I quit. It doesn’t have to be so. There is a way to be in the world, even the 9-5 world, and to make your art. It requires that you be creative about being creative.

Undergraduate and Graduate school is essentially a time when all you do is make your work. Of course there is still the matter of existence to attend to, while simultaneously taking courses in history and theory and perhaps working a job. But in the grand scheme of things, school is a privileged time carved out in the course of one’s life to develop creatively and to do so within a community of mostly caring individuals. But what do you do after school? Quite frankly there are not enough gallery and museum opportunities, grants, funding, and teaching jobs to accommodate everyone coming out of art school. So many of us find ourselves working jobs either loosely related or completely unrelated to our fields of study. In other instances, we work multiple part-time jobs in order to string together an income.

The solution is to be creative about being creative. There is just no escaping the challenges and necessities of existence. There are trips to the grocery store, rent/mortgage, utility bills, and student loans. And god forbid if you should want a little spending money. As an adult, our first responsibility is to figure out how to take care of these things, with it being even more pressing if there are children in the picture. Let me say this very clearly: take care of these things by any means necessary. Lucky enough to get a teaching job or sell your art? Great. If not, then you need to swallow your pride and work any job(s) that you can get your hands on. Resist the temptation to feel bitter about these endeavors and resist complaining about it to other people. You never know someone else’s situation.

Then you need to give yourself some time to get used to your schedule. The pressure and anxiety to make art will be there. Especially if you went to art school,as you were probably trained to approach art making with rigor and commitment. Hopefully you intend to make art your way of life. With that thought, art making is more of a long-distance race than a sprint. Once you get used to your situation, try to find the gaps in your day and week. Can you make art at work? I’m not advocating for skipping out on your duties and risking being fired. Instead, for example, can you compose poems or short stories during lunch. Or draw in a sketch book? Is there something about your job that you can use for your work? A particular feeling or insight gained by your daily experiences? Use that. If you are a photographer, can you make pictures before work or after work? Remember, you might not be able to do exactly what you want. You might only be able to work for an hour here or there. You can’t let that hold you back. The most important thing is to do something and to keep moving forward. You can still make good work. It’s just going to take longer than when you were in school. Resist the urge to move in the same pace as when you were in school. Let it develop organically. I would rather spend my entire life making one good piece of art than turning out mediocrity on a yearly basis. And remember to resist those feelings of bitterness.

Which leads me to remind you that no one cares about your art as much as you do. The desire to not have to work a day job is actually a desire to have one’s work validated to the point where that is all you have to do. It is the ultimate form of adoration for an artist. And that is just not going to happen for most of us. Feeling bitter? This is a reality, not something to feel upset about. The only one who can validate what you do is you. Art making requires faith. Validation from the outside is transient and forgotten in time. If you are waiting for others to immortalize your work, then you will be waiting for eternity.

Franz Kafka teaches us this lesson in his short story “Josephine the Singer, or The Mouse People.” In this story, Kafka tells us about a race of hardworking mice.These mice spend the majority of their lives working and taking care of the basic matters of existence. Their childhood is short, lives are difficult, and they don’t have time for art. On a daily basis, however, you can hear any number of these hardworking mice “piping” as they work, which is a form of singing. One of these mice, Josephine, loves to pipe so much that this is all that she wants to do. It becomes an art form for her, and a way of life. She wants people to listen, and they do. She wants to stop working and only focus on singing. Kafka tells us about her desire to do so:

“For a long time back, perhaps since the very beginning of her artistic career, Josephine has been fighting for exemption from all daily work on account of her singing; she should be relieved of all responsibility for earning her daily bread and being involved in the general struggle of existence, which—apparently should be transferred on her behalf to the people as a whole. […] Josephine argues, for instance, that the strain of working is bad for her voice, that the strain of working is of course nothing to the strain of singing, but it prevents her from being able to rest sufficiently after singing and to recuperate for more singing, she has to exhaust herstrength completely and yet, in these circumstances, can never rise to the peak of her abilities.”

Her people don’t comply and she has to go on working. They genuinely enjoy her singing, but simply don’t see it the same as Josephine. She even resorts to feigning injury in order to avoid work. She threatens to stop singing at one point. In both instances the mouse people continue on with their daily duties. At the end of the story, Josephine disappears. It is the end of singing and art among the mouse people. And though they are sad, again, their lives go on.

As I wrote, you cannot wait for external sources to validate your creativity. And you should not stop being creative if that validity never comes. In the end, all works of art crumble into dust. All artists are forgotten. Art is a way of dealing with the difficulties of existent, of communicating with each other. Your creativity, your “piping” is vital. Kafka worked full-time in an insurance firm and part-time in his father’s factory. At night he would write. He always said that he would go on creating in spite of everything. I hope that you will, too.

-Bill Guy, 2010.