A recent art fair in San Francisco, FOG Design + Art, shows how a spirit of genuine artistic innovation can generate commercial success.  

FOG has its roots in San Francisco’s history of technological and scientific innovation, yet it hasn’t been easy to combine that heritage with art that is visually compelling and original.  For years I’ve been disappointed in FOG, thinking it an awkward mixture of art and furniture. This time I was stopped in my tracks again and again by beautiful innovative work that illuminated the connections between art and design.

The best art at FOG was based on imaginative use of materials. For example, the image highlighted above seems from a distance to be some kind of textile, an  abstract geometric form full of movement.  Aptly named “Reality is Not Always Probable,” this work is subtle and intriguing.  As you move closer you realize that it is made entirely of colored dice. Three women in London, an artist collective called TROIKA, created this piece.  

While experimental works seemed to dominate the fair, there was still a place for traditional painting.  These works were often monumental, seeming to make up in size for their lack of quantity throughout the fair.  One of the most popular painters was Hopie Hill, who uses the Dutch still life tradition to explore contemporary themes.

And then, let’s just say it:  FOG made a lot of money for the artists and their galleries. Reported sales during Opening Night topped 8.8 million. While many sales were at mega-galleries like Hauser & Wirth, smaller galleries also did well.  Jessica Silverman (San Francisco) reported strong sales, and Hopie Hill’s still lifes (Charles Moffatt, NY) sold out at relatively modest prices ($8-16,000). 

This combination of excellent art and strong sales is cause for optimism.

I recently taught a workshop for artists about how art careers happen now. We started by discussing whether the following statements were true or false: 

• You need to have an MFA to be successful as an artist
• You have to be famous to get a solo museum show
• Art careers progress in a linear, orderly way

If you’ve been following my work you may know that these ideas are myths that hold artists back. Many successful artists never went to art school; regional museums often feature the work of emerging local artists; and successful careers follow a meandering path rather than a straight one. The next statements (all true) suggest a more open approach:

• Art careers are built on relationships with others
• Moments of insight shape an artist’s career
• Art careers are organic—they grow as you grow

When you realize that your art practice is the foundation of an authentic career, doors begin to open. You spend more time developing relationships with people who are on your level. You recognize that moments of insight are just as valuable as good research, since left and right brain ways of knowing go hand-in-hand. You stop striving and let your work develop naturally. Your career grows as you do.

This approach offers a more accurate description of how an authentic career unfolds. If you are stuck in the assumption that the whole idea of having a career is antithetical to your real work, you may create a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

So think about it. What myths are holding you back? What truths will help you shape an authentic art career? 

It has been a couple of years since I wrote about Artificial Intelligence, and now it is everywhere, often in the form of a friendly chat bot. 

​Most of us use AI to get information and advice about questions we’re trying to answer.  The process is seductive, like a fast google search that sounds so convincing it must be the truth. 

I see artists using AI to help them write about their work, with sometimes  problematic results. Since visual artists are often not skilled or confident writers, they use AI as a shortcut.  When faced with the challenge of writing a proposal or other submission, artists go to their friendly Chat Bot, put in a few rough ideas,  and out come smooth, polished paragraphs. They just sound terrific, since the sophisticated, elevated language is quite flattering. 

But on closer inspection there seem to be too many adjectives, and the language is generic rather than specific. The proposal might have been written by a novice art critic or curator;  it doesn’t sound like the voice of a real artist. The people who read your proposal can recognize the difference. 

But if you think there are some good ideas in the AI version, don’t throw it away. Instead, imagine yourself at an art event, where someone asks you what your work is all about. Then, in front of a mirror or with a friend, look at the AI version and say it out loud in your own words.  Take notes as you go, capturing the actual words you would use to describe your work. This process will help you find authentic language that sounds like a real artist: you. 

Everything you write about your work needs to be in your own voice.

Happy Holidays! 

Artists have always met together, often in small groups, to share their work and get feedback.  These critique groups focus on the work itself rather than struggles to make a career happen. Now I’m seeing an extension of this process, where artists share how they are making their way in the art world. My own clients have recently started to do this, and I see a larger trend.

​Artists need models of success that are real to them. Social media creates the illusion that everyone else has an easier time of it than you do. A relationship with an artist partner satisfies a deep need for real life examples of how other artists make their way. When you are able to connect with people who work just as hard as you do, it gives you hope. It is reassuring to know that nobody has it easy, that progress comes in phases, with disappointment and achievement in equal measure.

This process seems to work best for mid-career artists who have already accomplished a few goals. Emerging artists usually don’t know enough to be helpful to others, since they are still learning how to take the first steps in establishing themselves. 

If you want to find an artist partner, look first within your own network. Identify someone you admire and would like to know better. Their work should be different from your own, so that you are not in competition for the same opportunities. Look for someone whose resume reveals accomplishments that are different from your own. Reach out and ask for a studio visit, in person or on Zoom, and start a conversation.

When you share your work, your goals, and your questions with another artist,  you find the energy to keep going. 

Los Angeles is all over the place. The 28 artists included in the Hammer Museum’s biennial, Made in LA, demonstrate this. They come from other parts of the country, but live in LA and make wildly diverse work. The curators chose not to include a unifying title for the show, so viewers are challenged to find their own coherence. Reviews are mixed.

A number of the exhibitions reference the culture of cars & freeways, with one of the curators (from Chicago) noting that she had never traveled eighty miles in one day just to visit artist neighborhoods. It isn’t news that there are cars in LA, and the best on this theme is Lawrence Lek’s video installation, where a horse leads a car into a “rehabilitation center for disobedient self-driving cars.”

I think one way to approach the exhibition is to choose a few artists that speak to you and examine how their work reveals its meaning. I especially liked  Patrick Martinez’ cinderblock wall and Kristy Luck’s paintings.

Both artists combine materials and processes to create layers of meaning. Martinez uses imagery borrowed from Mayan murals, graffiti, peeling paint and neon signs in his urban sculpture. This visual complexity reveals how the past and present are both alive, and influence each other.

Kristy Luck’s paintings start with figurative imagery that anchors the work and then becomes abstract, as she layers pigments and translucent washes to blur the edges and soften boundaries. These elements overlap and penetrate each other, and the painting itself seems to search for meaning.

These works reveal what it feels like to be an artist in Los Angeles, where there is constant movement, fragmentation, and experimentation. While there is no center, many lively neighborhoods support a vibrant artistic community.