Sometimes realizations can be completely banal and familiar. Like a line you remember reading in every birthday card you have ever received. Sitting in my windowless office in front of my computer screen I had the pedestrian realization that yes, "things could be worse". I had never considered an office job. The thought of roasting under fluorescent lights, answering emails, seemed like a waste of time, talent and life. I swore I would become a crazed coke fein or heroine addict before I would submit to being a desk jockey but at the age of 27 something happened. The recession.
The recession affected each generation in a particular way. For myself and my contemporaries that meant the undertow was in full swing when we took the plunge out of grad school, clutching our MFAs which were a less than desirable life raft. I was facing student loans, a tenuous bank account and the black abyss of job opportunities. Coffee shops didn't even want to hire me. Upon my move to New York I applied to be a cigar girl, wall painter, personal caretaker, art teacher for toddlers and finally, an artist assistant. Luckily my prior experience was applicable for one of these jobs and I began working in various artist's studios. Each week I would show up in old jeans and a tank top to a work space most familiar to me. As I stretched canvases, cleaned brushes and resized jpgs we would chat about life, art, and being a creative individual.
I loved hearing stories of the art world in the 70s. The struggle, the hunger, the parties, the ideas. In many way it sounded exactly like what I was going through except for one fact, the space available to artists had been turned upside down. Artists need two types of space: work space and exhibition space. During the 70s there were limited galleries and plentiful work space. Today there are a record number of galleries and work space is limited to those that can afford it. Long gone is the Tribeca filled with artists living in reclaimed spaces. SOHO is now a place you go to buy $1000 dollar sneakers rather than being an undesirable industrial area ripe for artist studios. My generation was told to look to Brooklyn. In the two years I was there the area outside of my loft replaced it's burned out cars for plans to build a mall. Yet again artist work areas were traded for galleries and the economically established.
This leaves artists with few options. One, keep being pushed out into the burroughs and constantly relocate your studio. Two, seek out like-mided, poor, contemporaries and live together in a live/work space. Three, leave New York for cheaper living space but give up the creative jobs that are available there. I chose option three.
A year and three months later, things could be worse.
The recession affected each generation in a particular way. For myself and my contemporaries that meant the undertow was in full swing when we took the plunge out of grad school, clutching our MFAs which were a less than desirable life raft. I was facing student loans, a tenuous bank account and the black abyss of job opportunities. Coffee shops didn't even want to hire me. Upon my move to New York I applied to be a cigar girl, wall painter, personal caretaker, art teacher for toddlers and finally, an artist assistant. Luckily my prior experience was applicable for one of these jobs and I began working in various artist's studios. Each week I would show up in old jeans and a tank top to a work space most familiar to me. As I stretched canvases, cleaned brushes and resized jpgs we would chat about life, art, and being a creative individual.
I loved hearing stories of the art world in the 70s. The struggle, the hunger, the parties, the ideas. In many way it sounded exactly like what I was going through except for one fact, the space available to artists had been turned upside down. Artists need two types of space: work space and exhibition space. During the 70s there were limited galleries and plentiful work space. Today there are a record number of galleries and work space is limited to those that can afford it. Long gone is the Tribeca filled with artists living in reclaimed spaces. SOHO is now a place you go to buy $1000 dollar sneakers rather than being an undesirable industrial area ripe for artist studios. My generation was told to look to Brooklyn. In the two years I was there the area outside of my loft replaced it's burned out cars for plans to build a mall. Yet again artist work areas were traded for galleries and the economically established.
This leaves artists with few options. One, keep being pushed out into the burroughs and constantly relocate your studio. Two, seek out like-mided, poor, contemporaries and live together in a live/work space. Three, leave New York for cheaper living space but give up the creative jobs that are available there. I chose option three.
A year and three months later, things could be worse.
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