In the beginning of the movie Risky Business, Joel Goodson (played by a youthful Tom Cruise) tells his friend Miles (Curtis Armstrong), ‘I don’t want to make a mistake, jeopardise my future’. Miles replies with the advice, ‘Every now and then say, “what the fuck”. “What the fuck” gives you freedom. Freedom brings opportunity. Opportunity makes your future.’1

Miles suggests that Joel should take a chance now and again and maybe take a risk. Joel takes a risk, it ultimately pays off, and he walks away with the girl. He comes to recognise he has a growing attraction to risk-taking and identifies his future as an entrepreneur. The character transforms, as Janet Maslin notes in The New York Times, ‘from a straight arrow to an entrepreneur’.2 This transformation, I suggest, resembles that of many self-employed artists.

Entrepreneurialism in arts practice also involves a number of risks, the most obvious being financial. This is related to critical reception and art sales and the uncertainty of not making work that is good enough. Despite the risks, pursuing artistic occupations and to be self-employed as an artist remains an attractive option. Sociologist Pierre-Michel Menger observes a simultaneous increase in employment, and unemployment in artistic labour markets3, that might be attributed to a freedom from routine and growth of occupational autonomy. Menger further explains,

The careers of self employed artists display most of the attributes of the entrepreneurial career form: the capacity to create valued output through production of works for sale, the motivation for deep commitment and high productivity associated with their occupational independence – control over their own work, a strong sense of personal achievement through the production of tangible outputs, the ability to set their own pace, but also a high degree of risk taking as shown by the highly skewed distribution and high variability of earnings.4

Financial risk issues from the production costs associated with making works and low-income returns for creative work. In 2010 The Australia Council for the Arts published a study titled Artist Careers, examining the earned incomes of Australia’s practicing professional artists. It was found that the gap in real income between professional artists and the general workforce widened between 2001 and 2006 from $5300 to $6400. The study outlines that artists need to employ a degree of risk management, often in the form of multiple job holding, in order to support their artistic careers.5 The conclusion is that while financial difficulty is often unavoidable, it is not a deterrent to most artists, as the study found, ‘rarely do people become professional artists for the money. They are driven by their passion and commitment to art.’6

Beyond the financial difficulties that artists face, there are the risks associated with critical reception. Professional reputations, market reputations, and even personal friendships may be adversely affected as a direct result of the works produced by the artist. As Menger explains from a market viewpoint, ‘artists as well as entrepreneurs accumulate a history of results, and their performance ratings translate into reputations and into distinct industry identities.’7

One example from art history, is the late career ‘return to figuration’ by American artist Philip Guston. Emerging from figuration and figurative mural work early in his career, by his late fifties Guston had built a successful career as a first generation Abstract Expressionist of the New York School. His work was well received by peers and critics alike, including Harold Rosenberg, Morton Feldman and Dore Ashton. Then between 1968 and 1970 Guston turned his back on his success and began painting naive figures in a cartoon style. Images appeared of the Ku Klux Klan, boots with exposed stitching and dismembered one-eyed heads, all painted with thick brush strokes in pink and grey hues. When these works were first exhibited in 1970 in New York’s Marlborough Gallery the show was received with confusion and disbelief. Many painters whom Guston had known for several years stopped speaking with him, and questioned why he would ‘assassinate’ himself in this way.8

There has been much written about this episode of art history and the reasons for the transformation. Robert Slifkin quotes a comment Guston made in 1977 regarding the change:

When the 1960’s came along I was feeling split, schizophrenic. The war, what was happening in America, the brutality of the world. What kind of man am I, sitting at home, reading magazines, going into a frustrated fury about everything – and then going into my studio to adjust a red to a blue.9

The transformation of Guston’s work was not so shocking as first might be thought; he had been painting hooded men for thirty years prior as can be seen in The Conspirators (1930). What is surprising however, is the bravery Guston showed in risking his past achievements and critical successes when he exhibited his new work. Implicit in Guston’s statement above is a suggestion that to do nothing but continue painting Abstract Expressionist paintings was a much larger risk then risking something else, however unfashionable. In other words, isn’t it the real risk to continue to create the same type of work in a changing world, gradually stagnating and loosing contemporary relevance?

The story of Guston’s flight from expectations highlights the importance of risk-taking, reinvention and the ability to embrace change at all stages of an artistic career. When describing risk-taking Artistic Director of Melbourne’s Dancehouse, David Tyndall, argues that artistic failures act as a type of research and development, a lesson upon which an artist can develop.10 Failure encourages further enquiry and is an opportunity for growth and learning.

Risk of failure is part of the deal for an artist as well as an entrepreneur. The risk inherent in the vocational freedom of self-employment is paired with an opportunity to engage in creativity. Risks are not solely negative, but embody a positive opportunity for growth and the chance to produce something unique. When the initial risks associated with an emerging practice have subsided, a real danger exists of allowing the work to become complacent and disconnected from contemporary concerns. Embracing risk, and even courting failure – occasionally saying, ‘what the fuck’ – is less ‘risky business’ than it is a strategy for growth.

1. Paul Brickman, Director, Risky Business, 1983.
2. Janet Maslin, Film: Paul Brickmans’s “Risky Business”, The New York Times, 1983, online, http://movies.nytimes.com/movie/review?res=9F00E1DD153BF936A3575BC0A965948260, viewed 2 Aug 2011.
3. Paul Menger, ‘Artistic Labor Markets and Careers’, Annual Review Of Sociology, vol. 25, 1999, pp. 541 – 74.
4. Ibid., p. 552.
5. Australia Council for the Arts 2010, Artist Careers, Surry Hills, NSW.
6. Ibid., p. 1.
7. Menger, op. cit., p. 550.
8. Ross Feld, ‘Philip Guston’, in Henry T. Hopkins, Philip Guston, San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, San Francisco, 1980, pp. 11. – 35.
9. Robert Slifkin, ‘Philip Guston’s Return to Figuration and the “1930s Renaissance” of the 1960s’, The Art Bulletin, vol. 93 no. 2, 2011, p. 220.
10. David Tyndall, ‘Failure is a good thing’, ArtsHub, 2007, online, http://www.artshub.com.au/au/news-article/opinions/performing-arts/failure-is-a-good-thing-1544544, viewed 2 Aug 2011.

I’m Too Drunk To Tell You (2011) from Liam O’Brien on Vimeo.

I’m Too Drunk To Tell You is a performance experiment that I conducted in May of 2011. Over the duration of the ten minute performance I forced myself to consume consecutive 30mL shots of whiskey until I was unable to continue.

At the inception of the idea for this performance, it was unclear to me why this act was significant or meaningful to me or my work. Regardless, I felt compelled to execute the work in the hope that it would provide greater insight or clarity. Given the critical distance to reflect on the outcome, I believe that it is predominantly a savage critique of my own recent alcoholism, the social mentality that encourages it, and the relative pointlessness of overindulgence in one’s vices.

This may be a banal observation, but there is an overwhelming expectation that any and all social engagements are formulated around intoxication of one form or another. I had been indulging in this type of social engagement to the extent that the amount of time and money I was wasting was figuratively  – if not always literally – making me sick.

Over the past few years my practice has become predominantly performative, expressed in front of a live audience or through the production of photographic or video works. I’m interested in exploring issues pertaining to the idea of personal freedom and the social and economic structures that impede it. Some of the common characteristics of my work include simplicity, repetition and self-flagellation.

images: Liam O’Brien I’m Too Drunk To Tell You, 2011
(see independentpress.com.au/category/issues/issue-3/)

A multisensory concept by Danny Ford, The Cassette Project (CP), attempts to unify past technology with an in-the-present experience.

Three performers take turns remixing in front of a crowd, creating something that is relational and experiential at its core, to invoke dialogue.

One performer plays, whilst two others remix the live signal fed through two mixing desks. Utilising various technologies and effects at hand, the results are then distributed among the crowd via tape machines.

In the end the audience has an altered experience of the performance. Provided with copies of the other performer’s reinterpretations, a new dimension is added to the standard beer-band-album/shirt/iPhone bootleg of the set.

According to Danny Ford, the distribution among the audience of the cassettes then acts as ‘a kind of archive – like storing information in “the cloud”’, which illustrates the relational aspect of CP.

Like the old CD singles with one song and two additional remixes, right?

But the thing is, the remixes manipulate the performance. The audience experiences an abstract sound construction and are provided with distorted versions of the
sound event.

Delaying, reversing, or maybe even pulling back the drums, remixes provide the performer and the audience with a reflexive interpretation of the performance by other musicians.

Part Happening, a bit Exploding Plastic Inevitable and heavily reliant on a redundant form of technology, CP documents the music of a certain time and provides on-the-spot interpretations.

A polka band being remixed by a laptop musician could end up sounding like an anthem for Mars. A folk band’s effort may turn said polka into something dubstep.

With past contributions from bands and musicians such as Rational Academy, Ambrose Chapel, Silver Screens, Tomas Ford and Lion Island, the continuation of the project is intended to, ‘grow as a label or library might – as an archive of sounds’.

Ford believes that CP is, ‘at its core relational, with the most important elements being the participants themselves and their conversations’.

‘Conversation is the measurable evidence of the relationships that are under observation, while the project also allows performers to engage with other performers in a level of dialogue that is interesting to me’.

In addition, CP exists alongside forms of social media and marketing. CP embraces experiential marketing, encouraging consumers and participants to engage and interact with products or brands in order to enhance the experience – value addiding – encouraging customer retention and loyalty.

CP ensures that the performance itself continues long after the bands have finished, questioning the relationship between performer, audience and technology.

If someone was describing your personality, what would they say?

I would love it if a response to such a question was: ‘He is so attractive, pity you can’t fuck a personality’. Perhaps I should give you a more serious response…

No no! I like your sense of humour.
What do you think of people who take themselves too seriously?

Serious people are like breakfast cereal – capable of producing shit.

What is the biggest risk you have ever taken?

The risk of disco.

www.danielmcunningham.com

Dhana Merritt with Dani Marti

If you joined a dating website, how would you describe yourself?

Casual, creative, obsessive, muscular, sexual, passionate, enjoy living and slow breathing. Sometimes quiet. Sometimes fast.

In regards to your personal relationships, is it more important for you to be loved or understood?

It feels good to be loved, I don’t care if they don’t understand me. I don’t have much to say. I can find love in the embrace or admiration of a stranger, it is in many cases self-constructed and sometimes to be disposed of after it has been consumed. I would be more interested in respect, than love.

What about your art practice, do you prefer to shock or humour people?

Humour is not an aim that I am trying to convey with my work. Sometimes it’s there but I am not using it as a critical tool within my practice. Shock… I suppose that there is an element of it as some of my work is consciously transgressive, it can be considered offensive in some cases. I am more interested to work in that arena. Sometimes the work can be a bit challenging and humorous at the same time…good when it happens, it can be even more powerful.

What’s been tempting you lately?

a crisp and delicious almond croissant

www.danimarti.com

Dhana Merritt with Dora Maar

Inspired by a recent visit to Surrealism: The Poetry of Dreams at the Gallery of Modern Art, I wrote to Julie Ewington seeking permission to hold a seance in attempt to communicate with the spirit of Dora Maar. If possible, I may have asked her these deep and meaningful questions…

We are amongst over 100 of Europe’s finest Surrealist works. Some of them yours, some inspired by you and some of you. How do you feel about your involvement?
What do you think of the show? Do you like GoMA?

You were known for your photography prior to meeting Picasso in 1936. Somehow you have become more famous for your relationship than your artwork. How does this make you feel? If you don’t mind me asking, what was he like as a lover?

How would you like to be remembered?

If you also have the initials DM and would like to have a DM with DM please email info@independentpress.com.au

How does an ARI make a go of it? Energy and excitement, a few gigs and shows, and late nights in studios, are grist to the mill for the first few months, or couple of years. The beauty of an ARI is that it doesn’t really have to keep going or achieve much except be an Artist Run Initiative.

At some point, though, we start asking each other what we are doing this for? For some it’s a kind of calling that keeps us embedded with our arts practice, along with everyone else in our little ARI experiment. Even if we walk away and opt for the safety of a regular income and a reduced creative output, the call of the inexplicable haunts us. It is more than just the fact we might have done a TAFE course or Fine Art degree, we want to be creating, making and collaborating.

We want to make work, and it’s possible that we are compelled to make art with others. But with more than 23,000 artists in Australia, not many of us can make a living (let alone live well) from what we do as creatives, even if we make great art and we’re surrounded by the best people to work with.

Jugglers Art Space, an ARI in Brisbane’s Fortitude Valley, has been experimenting this year by offering free studio space to artists as part of the 103 Project Experiment to push the boundaries of the space. In exchange for some free studio space (up to 6 weeks) and reduced exhibition costs, successful applicants have been asked to produce a short 500 word reflective piece on the experience of being given a studio for free, with no strings attached. These pieces have been posted on our website. www.jugglers.org.au/twopages

Back in 2001, Robert Putnam from Harvard published Bowling Alone, where he outlines social research around both the loss of community engagement and the need to renew that spirit for the salvation of America. That might be a vision for America or Australia as nations, but the idea of being an artist in a community sounds counterintuitive, particularly for a visual artist or writer where being alone is the basic condition of production. Even an ARI, with all of the initial excitement in the first rush, can wear thin when there isn’t enough time alone, especially when personal space and boundaries are breached.

Our experiment has been positive for everyone. Jugglers has benefited from filling 20 studio spaces, with some artists choosing to stay on as paying lessees after finding a sense of community. New ideas have emerged from these artists. There is a sense of emerging ownership and there are multiple layers to a conversation that is emerging for us as an ARI.

image: Jugglers Art Space Inc Studio, Fortitude Valley.

When Lawrence English was 15, he started his first fanzine. In the following year he started a label, and has since been heavily involved in music, sound and media arts.

Over the past 20 years he has been influential in the freelance scene, working in freelance criticism, artist management, event production, tour managing, label production, curating, design, creative consultation and more. As an artist, he has presented artworks and performances on every continent on the planet (yes, even Antarctica) and continues to produce works that prompt questions of field, perception and memory.

The following excerpts from A Young Person’s Guide To Hustling in Music and The Arts by Lawrence English are divided into three sections – work, others, self.

Over the past decade and a half, I’ve enjoyed a wonderful freelance life making relative mountains out of dirt piles – well at least that’s how I’d like to perceive it. In many ways it’s what we all do in the arts – take whatever we can and make the best of it. We choose this because more often than not we love what it is we do, and with whom we do it.

Having remained freelance throughout my professional life has proved challenging at times. Early on, there were months when baked beans and toast was a staple, but mercifully I’ve been fortunate enough to get by year to year thanks to a little luck, some strategic thinking and a lot of generosity and support from those who have encouraged my curatorial/artistic endeavours.

So now, on the eve of my 15th year working at this ever evolving beast we call freelancing in music and the arts, I feel it may well be time to publish a few of the small rules and ideals that have guided me during this voyage.

Sadly, looking back over my time freelancing, I’ve seen so many talented and visionary curators, producers and artists shrivel up and pass into other work before they realised their potential…One thing that has certainly assisted me has been the insight and mentorship of elders and those more experienced in the field. It’s partly this sentiment of sharing that has brought about the writing of this little guide.

I hope there’s some useful and thought-provoking points here and that some of these views might prove poignant to you in sustaining your interests, passions and creativity.

for the work

Let the quality of the work speak for itself

For something to linger, for art and music to capture minds and be remembered, there needs to be something powerful, meaningful and evocative in the work you present. That’s what we’re all striving for to varying degrees, to be remembered and ultimately to be relevant in future times, and the best way to do that is to commit yourself to producing the best work you can.

The most obvious road is almost always a fool’s road

William Burroughs is sorely missed and it’s little quote gems like this that remind us just how spot-on he was.

We’re often faced with mediocrity, conservative creativity and work that occupies at the lower register of innovation – there’s no need for you or your work to exist there.

Document (at least a little)

Collective memory is short at the best of times. Let’s face it, there’s so much creation happening daily that it’s easy for people’s memories to wane. Do you remember what art you were experiencing this time last year? Or what music was capturing your ears? Possibly not.

for others

Respect

Very few of us are getting rich here, most of us are in this because we’re driven by a foolish desire to support work we care about or feel passionate about. Much easier livings could be sought in any number of academic, corporate or public service positions – jobs with actual benefits like superannuation, holiday pay and sick days.

What we have (or should have) is mutual respect. There’s room for everyone’s work and curatorial pursuits here. There might be moments where you feel you’re overlooked or someone else gets that chance you thought you might be best suited to, but something else will pop up.

If you say you will, then do follow through

If you agree to do something, then live up to your word.

Sometimes these things are unavoidable (acts of God, we’ve all been there) and you just need to accept it and move on, but that’s not always the case. Sadly sometimes people (either through lack of experience or something less excusable) simply don’t deliver what they promise.

Remember why you started

It sounds easy enough to do, but give yourself the better part of a decade in the throws and woes of the freelance arts and music environment and you’d be amazed how foggy your early memories can become. It’s quickly possible to lose track of what it was that first got you started.

Remember your friends

Freelancing is about peaks and troughs and not everyone’s wave cycle is at the same frequency. You can almost guarantee that people you see on the way up, you’ll more than likely see on the way down in your cycle.

Having friends, supporting them and hopefully having them support you is vital in the ebb and flow of creative freelancing. It’s important to remember that we’re all creative people trying to work out a place for our projects and aspirations. There’s room for everyone, so don’t be shy giving people a lift up when they need it. Who knows before long they might be doing the same for you when you need a helping hand.

Thank people

It’s not hard to do and more often than not we don’t do it enough. It’s the least you can do to show people what they do for you actually matters and is meaningful.
for you

‘You’ve got to have a line in the ocean to catch a fish.’

In the early 2000s, when I was supplementing my income with freelance writing, I had a curious conversation with Gene Simmons from Kiss. Part way through the interview, meant to be about an upcoming tour, Simmons’ drifted into his real passion – business. He said to me the one rule he lived by was ‘you’ve got to have a line in the ocean to catch a fish’. This comment stuck with me, as it’s inherently relevant for any hustler.

Yes is an important word, especially when you are starting out.

Don’t take things for granted

Who knows what tomorrow brings? This is particularly the case for freelancers who exist project to project. After all, policies change, government interests shift, patrons come and go – each opportunity you have is something you should take hold of and remember that it may not always be this way.

Feed yourself

I’m not talking physical health here, but spiritual health. Free time swiftly disappears when you’re freelancing – it’s a DIY world and you can bet no matter how hard you beg, the admin fairies won’t do those budgets for you or reply to the mountain of emails. With that said, it can be difficult to commit time to exploring new art, music, installation, writing, etc. That’s where trouble can start.

Think laterally

I’ve rarely found that a project presents itself in an entirely complete (and funded) state. This is where the hustle is most pronounced – how to cover shortfalls? How to find the right ideas or partners to support particular aspects of a project? More often than not finding answers to these problems won’t be a singular exercise.

Think globally

Australia is a joyously small place, and let’s face it, that’s one of the charms. We all generally know each other and people we don’t know are only separated by a few degrees. This is a blessing and a curse.

Have a companion (or companion animal) and a life

It may seem obvious to say this, but seriously, this is a must. If you’re not in a position to have a close companion, have friends and family to rely on. As important as your work feels (and is), there’s more to life than this. There’s a whole wider world out there and it’s important to remember that, as sometimes you can feel quite crushed and disheartened after a rough year or two.

And finally love what you do…

Art, music, film, theatre, dance, literature and the list goes on – the best work is always driven by passion. It is what carries you through the troughs and allows you to enjoy the peaks.

As useful and reassuring as money can be, it doesn’t ever satisfy like passion does. So be true to yourself and create work and opportunities you care about!

Melbourne’s Gertrude Contemporary played host to Project 35 on July 22, 2011. Developed by New York-based organisation Independent Curators International (ICI), this ongoing exhibition showcases a multitude of international talent currently dominating the field of video art.

As the name suggests, 35 is the magic number. The number of artists represented, the number of works on show, the number of key curators who selected them and the number of years active celebrated by ICI. Project 35 is an acknowledgement of the achievements of ICI and the ever-flourishing medium that is video art. Founded in 1975, the organisation has devoted itself to a global exchange of contemporary ideas between artists, galleries and curators alike. ICI has expanded beyond the limits of the museum sphere, developing exhibitions that translate to a variety of host venues. As a museum without walls, video art fits the objectives of ICI nicely, projected onto auditorium, foyer and gallery spaces alike.

Tracey Moffatt’s 2009 Other is the final of a series of films developed by the artist over a formative decade (1999-2009). Selected by Gertrude Contemporary’s director Alexie Glass-Kantor, Other is a complex and at times humorous reflection on ‘native’ constructs in cinema and the politics of looking.

Wanda Raimundi-Ortiz’s work, Contemporary Art: Topic 1, continues investigations into cultural ‘othering’ by critically exploring the language gap between the art community and everyday people. Raimundi-Ortiz’s sassy alter-ego Chuleta struggles to explain commonly used art theory terms, resulting in satirical criticism of alienation and pretentiousness in the art world.  ‘You’re going to be alright, we’re going to figure this whole thing out’, Chuleta reassures her YouTube audience as she proceeds to wrap her head around the importance of ‘the white box’ in post-modern art. Explaining it as ‘an art space where we be seeing pictures’, Chuleta further qualifies the term with the afterthought, ‘I know it’s stupid but…’. In light of her criticism of the white box, Raimunidi-Ortiz’s work is most pertinent to the objectives of Project 35 and ICI in general. Through Chuleta, Raimundi-Ortiz acknowledges the role of YouTube as a critical forum for artistic debate, emphasizing ICI’s celebration of spatial diversity.
In keeping with ICI’s highlight on flexibility, each curator has been invited to select a work they considered to be relevant to contemporary audiences. Naturally, such a broad criteria poses a risk to the unity of the exhibition. However, given the acknowledgement by ICI and Gertrude Contemporary of the diversity of their audiences, it would appear that this is a risk both organisations were willing to take in the name of global dialogue. Both ICI and Gertrude Contemporary are known for experimentation and dedication to expanding ideas in exhibition and art practice. Their investment in Project 35 seems to have paid off. Project 35 ran from July 22 – August 20, 2011 at Gertrude Contemporary.

images: Wanda Raimundi-Ortiz Contemporary Art: Topic 1, 2006
Guy Ben-Ner Berkeley’s Island, 1999 (below)

1. ATTENTION: All you rule-breakers, you misfits & troublemakers, all you free-spirits & pioneers, all you visionaries and nonconformists. Everything the establishment has told you is wrong with you – is actually what’s right with you. You see things others don’t. You are hardwired to change the world. Your mind is irrepressible. You were born to be a revolutionary. Your impulsivity is a gift. Impulses are your key to the miraculous… Diagnosed with a disorder? That’s society’s latest way to deny its own illness to point the finger at you…1

2. It is no measure of good health to be well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society.2

3. A World Revolution has begun. Transformation is underway. There is no time to hesitate. Before you lies a choice. A choice between Fear or Love. Personal transformation leads to planetary transformation. The changes are all around us. There is no time left to be complacent. The world is changing now. Not tomorrow – today. Be part of the change for good – for the Love, not the Fear. Let go your attachment to the old world and embrace the new. It is time to rise up, not in Fear, but in Love3

The above quotes have been submitted by PAX (the Pope ALice Xorporation)

1.WayseerNews. (2011, March 10) THE WAYSEER MANIFESTO [Official Video] (HQ). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OPR3GlpQQJA
2.J.Krishnamurti. (2008, November 12) It is of no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y0GKtQhHj4E
3.Sarahlivesey. (2011, March 26) the REVOLUTION has BE-GUN. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jFZkR_9XAH0