The Artist-Curator Relationship
I see a curator as a catalyst, generator and motivator–a sparring partner, accompanying the artist while they build a show, and a bridge builder, creating a bridge to the public. -Hans-Ulrich Obrist, curator at Serpentine Gallery, London.
Art is a team sport. Perhaps this sounds counterintuitive but in reality, the cliched vision of the tortured artist alone in a bleak, drafty studio is a bit more Hollywood than true life. Yes, the seeds of creativity need quiet spaces to take root but equally important is the time spent with those fellow creatives with whom artists can share ideas, commiserate, collaborate, and exchange news of the world. Amid most artist’s supporting cast of creatives is the curator. This month we’re diving into the role of curators, a job that is frequently misunderstood and often overlooked.
When the relationship between artist and curator is working well, each person is clear about his or her role. Most importantly, the curator knows her role follows the art, never the other way around. In the Western art genre, however, it’s surprising how often well-meaning curators, gallerists and board members of museums and national exhibitions take their jobs to an excessively prescriptive, creativity-smothering level.
In a conversation with Texas landscape artist David Griffin, we discussed the curator/artist relationship, when it’s healthy and when it’s downright harmful. Griffin, who started his career as an illustrator and transitioned into fine art a couple decades ago, learned just how unhealthy a faulty relationship with curators could be.
It all started when a local gallerist stepped into Griffin’s illustration studio and noticed a few paintings the artist had done after a trip to Europe. “He took three or four of those paintings and sold them right away,” Griffin recalled. At the time, Griffin was supporting his family with his illustration business and only dreamed of making a living painting what he wanted to paint. “That helped me make up my mind to switch from illustration to fine art. My break was pretty clean. One day I was doing illustration, the next I was painting.”
Joining a gallery gave Griffin the nudge he needed to get off the hamster wheel of deadlines and all-nighters spent creating someone else’s vision; a job he equated to factory work. “An art director would just send me a script and I’d have to turn it out,” he said. “I got tired of being somebody’s hands.”
His leap into the Western art market felt like freedom. And things were going well in the beginning, even though he only had one gallery. But the gallery sold well, and he could keep his life and family afloat, just as long as he created works the gallerist laid out for him.
“I remember going to lunch and that dealer would set a napkin on the table and draw out what I should paint,” Griffin said. “I never had to ask him what he wanted me to do. Basically, it was: ‘Here’s the script and I’m going to give you the outline, David, and I’m going to tell you what to do.’ I was a private, showing up, saluting, doing the paintings.”
And then one day, his only art dealer called and told him to come pick up his work, that he needed to do something else. Looking back, Griffin acknowledges that each crazy fork in the road led to a better place, whether he knew it at the time or not. This was one of the more scary lesson to learn but soon he landed in a new gallery where the owner wasn’t as explicit about directing his work. He did, however, did let Griffin know which paintings and what subject matter he wanted. And he warned Griffin not to surprise him or his clients with anything outside the box because he didn’t want to “spend a lot of time explaining what you’re doing.”
Those days are behind him now, thanks to curators who told him that it’s not their job to paint—that’s his job; their job is to create a space for him to show his work. Up to that point, Griffin wasn’t truly painting for himself; he had simply swapped one art director for another kind of art director. And he is hardly the first artist to run up against curators and dealers having too much control over his work. In fact, it’s so prevalent, that several years ago Denver artist Quang Ho began a collaborative venture with Gallery 1261 where he invited artists to show their most experimental work.
“My concept was to encourage artists to follow their intuition and not focus on what sells,” he said. “I wanted them to follow their muse and not be restrained by the market.”
Every artist Ho invited to the gallery embraced the concept. And Ho, in this manner, embraced the role of curator as “catalyst.” Interestingly, though, he soon discovered that giving artists that kind of freedom is a taller order than it sounds. Primarily, he explained, because all artists run up against two creativity crushing limitations: time and money. “It takes an extra special artist to follow through,” he said. “I see a lot of fear. And I think it’s really hard to be original all the time. Even with all the freedom in the world, if you don’t have a clear vision, it’s hard to know where to go.”
David Griffin concurred. “Not having anyone directing me, telling me what to do–believe it or not, that’s hard” he said. “I look back on that now, and it was kind of a crutch and one of those things that was holding me back. I was in the marketplace and selling but without complete freedom. To be honest with you, when you’re given the freedom to do your own thing, it exposes your weaknesses. I could draw, I could paint, I knew color, but now I had to come up with my own ideas and had to ask myself if I was up for the task. So, it did expose weaknesses, but they needed to be exposed. I needed to look at my weaknesses and my failures if I was going to be an artist.”
Therein lies the curator’s most difficult chore: to encourage without suggesting, to support without crossing the line into art directing. “I feel like the call of an artist is to follow your intuition,” Ho said. “You shouldn’t be held back by those limitations—time and money—because they kill the artistic spirit.”
But what about money? What if you scare off your collectors who know you for one thing and wonder what the heck you’re doing all the sudden, shifting gears and trying something completely different? “I’m too dumb to ever worry about scaring off collectors,” Ho said, with a laugh. “My last show, I had 45 different paintings and it looked like 10 different artists did them. I think people really understand my need to explore.”
That need to explore is at the core of artistic expression. As Griffin put it, a good curator can create a safe space that allows an artist to express his voice. “I do think there is something to being able to say, “this is my own voice,” metaphorically, and to have people respond. But it is scary because you just don’t know. We all want people to like us. The extension of that is, if people like my work, they like me. That’s a bad way to put value on things. But it’s risk and reward,” Griffin said. “The reward is bigger.”
SIDEBAR
After nearly 30 years curating the Coors Western Art Exhibit & Sale, I’ve developed a top 10 list by which I hold myself accountable. As collectors, you can use this list to help deepen your collecting habits and your collection on the whole.
- An artist is not an extension of you.
- Never tell an artist what to paint, photograph, sculpt, etc. They’re the ones taking all the risks in this business, give them the respect and freedom to do their job.
- Decide on and then state the theme and parameters of the collection you are curating clearly and upfront.
- Embrace surprise.
- Art that is wildly different from anything else you collect but holds true to your theme should be included. Once introduced, it will pop everything around it.
- If you wake with the image of a work of art in your head, you need to add it to your collection.
- Art that challenges your identity is important to include; it helps expand your own world view, as well as your understanding of yourself.
- Learn everything you can about each artist you wish to collect, in particular, listen to their “why”—the reason they wake up and head to the studio each and every day.
- When you stand in front of any work of art, whether you like it or not (mostly when you dislike it), be quiet and listen for the “voice” of the artist. These works of art are often the most important because they reveal universal truths.
- If you have a strong vision for a particular work of art you want in your collection, a commission might be a good route. But refer to rule #1. Let the artist make work that comes from their own volition. And, if you really have a strong idea, consider taking classes from a local art school, atelier, or artist you admire—you may have a hidden talent you’ve kept buried too long.