Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Artist Statement
By Loney Abrams
Writing about art is hard. Writing about art that you made can be even harder. We hear artists say, “If I
knew how to describe my work in words, I’d be a writer, not an artist.” While this may be true, what’s
“truer” is the fact that at some point, you as an artist will be asked to write an artist statement—and
whether or not it is good, will matter. So, what makes an artist statement “good”? Whether you're
applying for a residency or grant, or you just want to perfect your elevator pitch, here are a handful of
things not to include in your artist statement, plus a few tips to make the process a little less excruciating.
Resist the temptation to use this as an opportunity to write a poem or subvert the “institution of the artist
statement.” We get it; you’re an artist. We really do just genuinely want to know what your art is about.
Please tell us.
The worst way to start an artist statement is with the following words: “Every since I was a little girl, I’ve
always loved making art.” Unless you were literally raised by wolves or grew up in a hermetically sealed
suite a la Bubble Boy, this is not interesting information. Most kids love art, and regardless, having a long
love affair with your craft doesn’t mean much—it’s what you have to show for it that counts. There is
really no need to explain when you became interested in art.
Juxtapose
Humanity
Human condition
Concerns
Chaos
Uncanny (unless it truly, truly is uncanny. Look up the definition.)
Notions
Speculative
Explores
Rupture
Troubled
Liminal
Controversial (unless it actually sparked controversy.)
Deconstructs
Don’t convolute your sentences by beating around the bush. For instance: “My art practice is concerned
with exploring notions of gender” really means, “My art is about gender.” Or, “I’m interested in
investigating ideas and concepts surrounding notions of race” becomes “I investigate race.” Be specific
and don’t use vague words that keep you from getting to the point.
If you’re making art about your personal experience, fine. But the question you have to ask yourself is,
“Why is my personal experience relevant to anyone but me?” What does your experience say about the
world you live in? What can people learn from your story that might be useful to them? Use your
experience to illustrate some larger issue, topic, culture, or idea that others can relate to or learn from.
6. Find Help
Not everyone is a good writer, and that’s totally okay. You shouldn’t need to be able to recite the Chicago
Manual of Style verbatim to write a good artist statement. But don’t let your lackluster writing skills be an
excuse for a sloppy statement. Find a wordsmith, buy them a beer, and ask them to help you edit your
text. Not only will a poorly written statement make your ideas harder to understand, but grammatical
errors could also come off as evidence of apathy and irreverence towards whatever opportunity you’re
vying for.
In general, it’s probably best to avoid relying on the ideas of other people to prop up your work. But if
you really must reference a philosopher, critic, or theorist, make sure to write a very brief (could be five
words) description of who that person is. Don’t assume everyone who reads your statement had the same
liberal arts education you did. In terms of referencing other artists: if your work intentionally and
deliberately references other artists, and these references are integral to the meaning of your work, by all
means, name the artists you reference. Otherwise, do not compare yourself to other artists, e.g., “Like
Picasso, I paint…”
In 2012, Alix Rule and David Levine brilliantly and hilariously wrote about what they called
“International Art English”: the “the curious lexical, grammatical, and stylistic features” too commonly
found in art-world press releases. Here is a tiny excerpt, but do yourself a favor and read the entire thing:
“IAE has a distinctive lexicon: aporia, radically, space, proposition, biopolitical, tension, transversal,
autonomy. An artist’s work inevitably interrogates, questions, encodes, transforms, subverts, imbricates,
displaces—though often it doesn’t do these things so much as it serves to, functions to, or seems to (or
might seem to) do these things. IAE rebukes English for its lack of nouns: Visual becomes visuality,
global becomes globality, potential becomes potentiality, experience becomes… experiencability.”
10. Write About the Most Interesting Aspects of Your Work (Not All Aspects Are Interesting)
Explaining your process can reveal something about your work that isn’t immediately known by just
looking at it. If this is the case, explain away. But for most artists, this play-by-play account just isn’t
necessary. For instance, if you’re a painter, there is really no need to mention that you begin your day by
priming your canvases, or that your artwork always begins with “an idea” or “a sketch.” Figure out what
makes your work unlike other people’s and focus on that. For some artists, that is their process, for others
it might be their research methods, or concepts, or relationship to art history, etc.
12. Your Love for Making Art Doesn’t Justify its Worth
Please, please, please don’t write about how much you love painting, or how fun it is to be in the studio,
or how ceramics is a form of therapy. Don’t get it wrong—we’re very happy for you if you feel these
ways, and we understand that working creatively can be a very uplifting and joyful process. But here’s the
thing: your experience of making your art in no way influences our experience of looking at it. This may
seem counter-intuitive, but an artist statement is not about you, the artist; its about your work, the art.
If you’re having writers block, don’t give up. Download a voice recording app on your phone and record
yourself talking about your work out loud to a friend (or your cat.) After you transcribe your speech and
edit out the likes and ums, you might be surprised with how good it sounds. And if not, at least you’ll
have something down on the page that you can work from. Text that is conversational and seemingly
effortless is easier and more fun to read that text that seems like it was painstakingly laborious to write.
14. Obviously, Describe Your Work
If someone was standing in front of your art, what questions might they ask you? What could you tell
them that would give them a richer, more informed viewing experience? Write about your work in a way
that will add something to the viewing experience, not just summarize it. If you’re having trouble getting
the juices flowing, here are a few questions you can answer to get you started (just remember, you don’t
need to address all of these in your statement.):