Artistic Statement
photo by Katie Eargle
Ever since the age of about five, I’ve been called “creative.” I would scribble my way feverously through sketchbooks and make my mom buy items at flea markets so I could create art out of forgotten materials. At this time, describing a personal artist statement would have been challenging for me, because art was not something I did, it was my identity. If I could do physics or mathematics then I would not be where I am today; art was simply my strongest suit. This changed right around senior year of high school when my artist statement began to take shape. My AP English literature teacher read us a poem called a “Horatian Notion.” Basically, it said, that one does what one loves because someone else made them love it.
“…You make the thing because you love the thing
and you love the thing because someone else loved it
enough to make you love it.
And with that your heart like a tent peg pounded
toward the earth's core.”
Thomas Lux (Sampled from “A Horatian Notion”)
“…You make the thing because you love the thing
and you love the thing because someone else loved it
enough to make you love it.
And with that your heart like a tent peg pounded
toward the earth's core.”
Thomas Lux (Sampled from “A Horatian Notion”)
I realized that I make art because my father inspired me at a young age. He encouraged me to draw out the childhood stories that I would conjure up in my head, and therefore, my philosophy has deep roots in storytelling. I guess it is a post-modernist notion to think that art needs to help portray an idea or tale, but it is a firm guideline to which I judge all other artwork. When there is no story behind a design, photograph, etc. there is no soul in the art, no history. So whether through the creation of a graphic logo for some company, a website for a design firm, or maybe even just a large scale illustration, everything I do, to me, conjures up a narrative story as a slice of a larger, yet often hidden, plotline.
Many things come into play with this belief that the purpose of art is to tell a story. For example, there are aspects of change and fluctuation. Through time, stories and works of art change. Perception and observation being subjective, I feel that no art can ever be completely finished. There are times when I leave a piece of work unfinished, which is okay, because I am happy with it, and “the world” understands its meaning, as done. However, I have no problem going back into this design or work and completely altering it, once I no longer find it worthy. It’s completely natural, and because it is a process, the art creation becomes a story.
When it comes to style, I am a very transient person. One week I will be in love with some kind of art and will emulate this in my work, but then I’ll be onto the next without hesitation. Still, there are two notions I stick to, despite my endlessly changing stylistic beliefs and preferences. First, there are the running motifs of German expressionist spirals, that through the works of Tim Burton, I was lovingly introduced as a small child. These strange, curling forms always represent story in the way they fold back upon themselves, creating a mysterious movement throughout. I’m really drawn to the abstract notion that spirals and curls are always undulating and moving, always changing. This, with another, the stylistic use of time periods, reuse of past designs, trends and fashion frame and underpin much of my art. I toy around with styles from different centuries and decades and when I become obsessed with one, I usually create a couple works of art based solely in the realm that era. Just as soon as I get obsessed with styles from one particular time period, I find something else that attracts me to another. I am always constantly shifting, creating stylistically influenced notions of stories through my art. It’s a strange kind of flip-flopping pattern, yet it continues to pull me back to the idea of art for storytelling.
