One of the consequences of sitting on two Boards of Directors for Hamilton’s artist-run sector - and consequently, on two Programming Committees - is that I invariably end up spending a lot of time looking at artists’ application packages for everything from exhibitions to commissions to OAC Exhibition Assistance Grants. Just this week alone, I had two separate occasions to look at various proposals and requests for funding, and once again I was painfully reminded that there are a good many artists out there who still don’t know how to complete even the most basic presentation of their practice.

Image from uniquedaily.com

Among the blogs I follow on a regular basis, some are very good at doling out valuable advice on how best to tackle the administrative realities of being an artist. Edward Winkleman has a series of posts on the what-to-do’s involved in seeking gallery representation, and Joanne Mattera once posted a delightfully cringe-worthy account on what NOT to do among her many well-crafted Marketing Monday posts.

But before one even reaches the level of seeking out gallery representation, there’s a few fundamentals that I really need to get off my chest before I can properly unwind this weekend. And snarky though this may be, it’s nothing to the deliciously dripping vitriol offered up by Ed Winkleman earlier this week, nor is it anywhere near as hilarious. (Just as a sampler: “Dealers and curators and collectors and critics are NOT your parents. They’re other adults who are interested in supporting you because of your talent…not because of some twisted, lingering urge to coddle other grown ups. Stop expecting it. It’s gross.”).

Still, here goes:

1. Usually, when given an opportunity to submit your work for consideration, there’s a list of required elements. In the case of the Ontario Arts Council, there’s even a literal checklist. For the love of all that is holy, use it.

2. Sometimes, this magic checklist will even tell you how long a CV or artist statement you’re allowed to submit - in my non-profit grant-writing realm, the 3-page CV and 1-page statement are pretty standard recurring characters. So please, I’m begging you, stick to those length restrictions wherever you may find them, because while I’m a sad bastard who will still read everything you say out of masochistic curiosity, rest assured I’m hating both of us every second. And most others simply won’t be arsed to bother.

3. Before sending your artist statement to a complete stranger with no preconception of who you are, try handing it over to an honest-minded, preferably non-arts-associated loved one. See if they can read what you’ve written without a) laughing, b) rolling their eyes, or c) lapsing into a coma to escape the insanity of it all. Chances are, if friends or family can’t understand where you’re coming from, neither will a stranger sitting on a selections panel.

4. The flash on your camera? Turn it off. I know photographing art is hard, I’m still a bit shabby at it myself, but a flash is not the answer. Sunlight is not only cheap, it’s free. And it won’t make every semi-lustrous element of your work explode into incomprehensible whiteness like a lens flare in Star Trek.

5. And as a final plea, please don’t beg when applying for funding or a show. The name of the game is artistic merit, not charity case or manipulative pity. Just… have a little self-respect, and let the work speak for itself, okay? I want to assume you’re better than that.

Thank you.

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