My question concerns the issue of a “signature style” and the importance of projecting an image of consistency (particularly on one’s personal website). I’ve done a lot of different things, and tend to work in the medium that I feel best expresses what I am trying to communicate. As a result, I’ve got a real mix of things (photos, text-based pieces, assemblages/sculptures, some video work) and categorizing on my site is done by 2D, 3D, and “other” (to include video, installation, proposals).

While I can personally see the threads of consistency running through the work, I’ve been cautioned that I need to “grow up, pick one thing, and get known for it.” I realize that curators and judges look at my site, as do galleries and employers I might be courting. While I feel the need to be true to my vision, should I maybe rethink what I’m publicly presenting? Is it just too much for people? Does it present me as scattered and lacking seriousness? Maybe as a compromise, should I not limit what I make, but be more focused by what I share and exhibit? I understand that there are many shades of gray here, and it is difficult for you to comment without actually seeing the work.

Let me start by saying that I don’t believe you should put an arbitrary limit on the kinds of things that you make, and certainly never for the humdrum purpose of marketing your work. While it may be an idealistic, unpragmatic thing to say, I do believe that artmaking is the last bastion of real freedom. If you artificially restrain what you make in order to curry speculative favor with a narrow set of people who may or may not assist your career, you’ll only hurt yourself in the long run.

Paul Chan, Sade for Sade’s Sake, 2009. Digital video projection, 5 hrs 45 mins looped

That said, the other option is to continue making whatever you want, but be selective about what you show to the world. There’s no reason to put every last thing you’ve ever made on your website, as viewers might find it overwhelming or confusing, so slim it down to a manageable group of works. The first step is to take a really hard look at your oeuvre and select your strongest pieces or projects. Pretend you are starting from scratch with the new site and concentrate on quality over quantity. Be unsentimental! Make a list of these works as you go, and once you’ve gone through your images the next step is to figure out how you’re going to arrange or order them.

Surely there is a thread of conceptual continuity that runs through all of your projects, even if it’s sometimes hard to discern. Your job now is to find a way to emphasize that thread in the layout of your website. You might want to try using a standard outline for this kind of organizing because it mimics the architecture of most websites. For example:

1.) Oil on canvas, chiaroscuro

_____A.) work from 2012

__________i.) Sunset on Dragon Lake

__________ii.) The Coachman’s Dress

__________iii.) Grapes & Wicker

_____B.) work from 2011

etc.

Paul Chan, Volumes – inncompleteset (detail), 2012. Each: oil on fabric, paper, and cardboard, dimensions variable

You could arrange your projects by medium as you’ve done before, but you could also make an outline for a chronological organization, or by project or solo exhibition, or for particular concepts that you’ve explored. If you try different ways of sorting, they might lead you to a new way of expressing the commonalities between your works. And if you really have a hard time doing all this with words on paper, you could try printing tiny images of your work and rearranging them on a wall or table until you find a combination that makes sense. Remember to keep an eye on cohesion and try to look at your distributions as a stranger would. As you go, just keep asking yourself, “Does this make sense?” If your final preferred grouping is nontraditional, make sure you have a solid justification for it.

You can also unify the work with good site design, keeping the layout consistent from page to page. If you’re not creating a website using one of the popular template-based site builders, be sure that your font styles and sizes are the same throughout and that all your images are one standard width. Having a regular structure or format for each section will help, too. For example, if you arrange the site by project or exhibition, then in each section you could show an installation shot, then the individual works, and then a detail shot or two if the work warrants it; if you’re grouping your work by a medium like drawing, then you can establish a rhythm by consistently showing a sequence of overall shot, detail, overall shot, detail, etc. The goal here is to unite all the different works by establishing a background uniformity in the site’s structure.

Paul Chan, Constellation Series, Right to peaceably assemble (formerly Cassiopeia), 2005. Inkjet print, 30 x 40 inches

The other part of your site that can really help bring everything together is your statement. This is perhaps the hardest part, but when you are going through all your images and organizing them, think about the progression of your ideas and the way that one project has moved you to the next. What are the similarities between your works? What notions or concepts have you been following? The statement is the place where you can wrap it all up and put a bow on it, so don’t neglect this portion of your site.

When you’ve spent some time on this and feel like you have a workable solution or two, run your ideas by a few friends (or people who are familiar with your work). They may have further suggestions for you, and it’s always a good idea to get feedback on a new site from people who know your goals. Have them look for inconsistencies, site-wide flaws, and typos before you release the site to the world. Good luck!

Your counselor, hard at work.

My question centers around income: does an artist truly need their own website to be successful? Do prospective buyers really look up your name and view your work? I’m a financially struggling student–I do not have an official website (only a facebook dedicated to art). Is this a serious drawback in the sense that others will not take me seriously as an artist even if my work is of good quality?

Worrying about being taken seriously is putting your cart before the horse, because how will these hypothetical people even find you in order to evaluate your work? I asked around about websites and this is what I heard:

One New York gallerist said, “One doesn’t NEED a website, but it helps curators and galleries find your work… I doubt that ‘buyers’ really come via the web, but I think it is advantageous so have some web presence if you want to be found.”

Likewise, the gallerist I contacted in Berlin said, “Yes of course people (collectors, curators, gallerists) are researching artists they are interested in – who doesn’t use Google? If an artist does not have a gallery representing them with a comprehensive overview of what they’ve done on their site, it’s probably good to have some information available that allows interested persons to see the work without contacting the artist directly.  I don’t know if it will make anyone successful though!  Most “buyers” are going to buy from galleries I think, and really it’s gallerists and curators who are going to reference the site, so it would be bad form to set up a website that was geared towards selling work.”

Make it easy for people to find your work. (image: affiliatemarketerscollege.com)

The most comprehensive answer came from a San Francisco gallerist (it must be that famous “California abundance” at work): “This is an interesting question. Ultimately, a website is one piece to the puzzle and the need is probably in relation to what an artist’s gallery (or galleries) is providing for them. Having one’s own website of course provides the greatest control of presentation so long as the artist is capable and willing to do the work. Most people do not realize the extent to which a website is an on-going project and an out-of-date website can easily give the impression that an artist has given up their practice. One needs to keep the images (individual works and exhibitions), biography and press updated and the photography should be as professional as possible. The design and photography on any given website has evolved so much in the past five years, and with it our sophistication as visual consumers on the web.”

“Those caveats aside, an artist’s website generally provides a much broader scope of the work than most gallery sites. In some cases, commercial sites often skew towards displaying available works over possibly better works that have sold. An artist’s website will often have their name as a domain (www.artistname.com), which is a tremendous boost in the organic search engine results. I would highly recommend this type of domain over something clever. It’s also important to remember that a website is not just used by potential buyers. Other audiences include curators, other galleries, artists, students, writers and the list goes on.”

“Contact information on a website is an issue worth discussing as well. There are generally two options for an artist who is working with galleries: list the gallery’s contact info and personal info or just the gallery’s. This again depends on the working relationship with the gallery. If there is a close, collaborative and trusting relationship, let the gallery do their job of fielding inquiries while the artist focuses on making work. If opportunities are slipping through the cracks, the artist should think about taking a more active role. Through contact information, we get to the question of sales. The occasional buyer will attempt to purchase a work directly from an artist through their website, and always at a hefty discount. It’s slippery behavior and the person who does this is probably not a collector that is going to make a long-term positive impact on an artist’s career. Sales inquiries should always be referred back to a gallery.”

“There is also the question of the artist’s blog. I have found this to be a great way for artists to share their work, while building context and community around their practice. I suspect that more and more these blogs will be used as research tools for curators and galleries, especially in compiling group shows. I suppose to sum things up, a website, if done right, can certainly only be helpful.”

This is just one of the amazing images you can find if you search Google Images for “making a website.” Oh, how I love the internet. (image: www.steps-to-make-your-own-website.com)

There you have it folks, right from the mouths of people in the know. Though they are all anonymous this week, I’d like to thank the dealers who provided clear and thoughtful guidance for this column! Please, don’t anyone whine to me about galleries taking fifty percent and blah blah blah because so far I’ve only encountered people who were not only doing their job but also willing to help me with mine.

The voices of art school stay with you after graduation. (image: artsedge.kennedy-center.org)

I have been out of grad school for about two years now. I feel like I am stuck in a post-MFA funk where I can’t return to a place of pure art making. I seem to have a mental block where I self-critique any new idea I have before I even execute it. Any thoughts on how to get out of this mode of overly critiquing every idea?

This is a problem faced, on and off, by the majority of artists I know. Even if you haven’t gone to grad school you can end up with some choice phrases of negativity rattling around in your brain, and if you have gone through the blast furnace of an MFA program it takes quite a while before the voices in your head are shushed enough for you to get back to work.

That’s not to say that all critique should be silenced. It’s good to be honest with yourself when you’re evaluating your work, but that process should happen mostly after you’re done one piece and before you begin another. If self-criticism is keeping you from moving forward with your work then you have a problem, and if it keeps you from making anything at all then you have a three-alarm fire to put out, because if you’re not making work, what’s there to evaluate? You’ve crashed before you’ve started, and that’s a waste.

Try to identify where the critique is coming from, because it has an origin somewhere. Was there a particular person in school whose criticism stung the most? Or was there someone that you were trying (and maybe failed) to impress? A snide studio mate with some unsolicited “advice” for your practice? This might be one source of emotional-intellectual discontent. Or maybe when you start to really examine what the voice is saying you’ll discover that it’s actually your uptight banker uncle, asking when you’re going to get a real job. Or maybe it’s that parsimonious version of yourself who is inevitably (even if you’re a guy) the bitchiest Mean Girl that ever walked the earth. Whatever, no matter. The point is to try to put a face on this funk. Think of every nagging, petty, ridiculous thing these people are saying: that’s stupid, I don’t get it, it’s been done before by people smarter than you, you don’t have anything to say, your ideas are so boring, you think anyone cares about that? Man, that shit is ugly. And so on. Write it down if you can.

(image: www.learntoart.com)

Now accept that these people aren’t actually in the studio. That’s you in there, saying those scary things and playing head games with yourself. By acknowledging that, you take it out of the damaging realm of assumption. It can be difficult to acknowledge all this nasty stuff, but it’s important to bring it out into the open—demons don’t like the light.

You’re creative, so if identifying the basis of this problem doesn’t solve it, try a little mental exercise every time the voices in your head start to get the better of you. Picture these people standing behind you and saying all these smarmy things. Imagine turning up a volume knob so that they are shouting at you, yelling and waving their hands to get your attention. Feel what that feels like for a moment. Does it make you sweat with fear? Do you get angry? Does your stomach knot? That’s okay. Just feel it. Now put your fingers back on the volume knob and slowly start to turn it down. Take a deep breath and keep turning, all the way down until you can barely hear them. Then turn the knob all the way down until it clicks and these people are moving their mouths but no sound is coming out. Do they look ridiculous? How does that feel?

This “place of pure art making” is inside you. It was and always will be inside you, but it was silted up by layers of criticism that you are hanging onto. It’s still there, but you’re going to have to do a bit of work to excavate it. Acknowledge the part that you are responsible for and then do a brave thing: continue to work in spite of it.