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Hi everyone. Unfortunately I'm still struggling with my health; I've been laid up with a stinking cold for the last week and I'm still recovering. I hope to be back to regular blogging by next week. In the meantime, here's a couple of photos I took on Wednesday. It was one of those wonderful, crisp, clear winter days and although it happened depressingly early, the sunset was just spectacular.

Winter sunset 01
Kirsty Hall: Winter Sunset, December 2008

Winter sunset 02
Kirsty Hall: Winter Sunset, December 2008

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Katherine asked to see some of the little drawings that I talked about in my last post. Here are a few of my favourites...

Pencil + gesso 15
Kirsty Hall: Drawing, Nov 08

Pencil + gesso 05
Kirsty Hall: Drawing, Nov 08

Pencil + gesso 07
Kirsty Hall: Drawing, Nov 08

Pencil + gesso 06
Kirsty Hall: Drawing, Nov 08

Pencil + gesso 04
Kirsty Hall: Drawing, Nov 08

Pencil + gesso 03
Kirsty Hall: Drawing, Nov 08

The torn edges are an important part of these drawings and I'm considering framing some onto larger sheets of watercolour paper so that the edges are retained. These are drawn on A6 cartridge paper (105 × 148mm) with a deliberately restricted palette: I'm ONLY allowing myself to use two pencils (a 2B and a 9B) and acrylic gesso. The greys are formed when the gesso mixes with the very soft 9B pencil. Working on this small scale and with such a limited choice of materials really frees me up to work quickly in an uninhibited fashion, which is absolutely what I need right now.

If you want to see more of these, check out my flickr pages.

When I was scanning these, I was thinking about the way that pencil is often regarded as a 'neutral' art material because it's so ubiquitous and considered fundamental to art. Yet actually, graphite is a very particular material with its own distinct properties. The scans don't capture the incredible, shiny, dense, silvery greyness of the 9B pencil but when I'm applying it so thickly, its status as a mineral becomes quite apparent. I've also been playing around in the studio with graphite powder on gessoed panels but it makes a much softer and more fragile mark than pencils, which contain clay and binder for strength and ease of use. I've been wondering what it would be like to densely coat an object with pencil marks or layered graphite? The idea of making sculptures that leave 'drawings' on their surroundings is very appealing to me.

Oh, and if you want to know how those 'simple' and ubiquitous pencils are made, then check out this series of videos from Derwent. It's a surprisingly complex process but certainly a lot quicker and easier than the way it used to be done!

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One of the advantages of going to art college is that it teaches you to think deeply about your work.

Unfortunately one of the downsides of going to art college is that it teaches you to think deeply about your work!

In art college you learn to be critical of what you make and you learn a language with which to talk about your work. These are valuable skills and I'm glad I was taught them. However, thinking deeply about my work can become a handicap on occasion. I've found it can inhibit me and prevent me from starting work or make me constantly question the worth of an idea when it's in that delicate beginning stage. Six years out of college, I still hear the sceptical voice of my tutor rattling around inside my brain asking me if the work is really meaningful and well-considered.

Of course, it's important to be able to think and talk about our work; being an artist today requires those skills. But it's also important that analysing and talking about the work doesn't impede the actual making of the work. Analysing and making are two very particular skill sets that require different sorts of vision and attention. I run into trouble when I get the order muddled up: letting the analytical side out too early to run riot through half-formed ideas can be fatal to my productivity. Right now I need to make art without second-guessing myself all the time, something I've been doing a lot lately.

This has been a hard year for me - I've been weighed down with illness, both my own and that of my son. Thankfully he is much better and is back at school now but the strain of caring for him during the first half of this year has left me drained and unwell. Consequently it's been a pretty hopeless year for art and I am currently in the tricky position of emotionally needing to make art but having very little physical energy to do so.

This tension is expressing itself in a hypercritical over-awareness of what little I am making, constant worrying about what I'm not making, fretting over whether my art is any good and all the rest of the neurotic behaviour to which artists are prone. I consider myself to be fairly level-headed as artists go, yet I still fall prey to these fears and anxieties, most especially when I'm not making art at the pace and level that I need to. I don't think of my art as therapy but let's just say that my family have been known to beg me to go to my studio if I've gone too long without making!

But although I clearly need to work, I don't have the energy to do so in any consistent way at the moment. So instead I'm concentrating on improving my health and consoling myself by making little drawings that don't take too much time or energy. And when my inner art tutor starts muttering that the drawings 'look a bit Foundation-y', well, I just grit my teeth and try to ignore him. I'm also a) considering hiding the work from myself until I can look at it with a clearer and calmer eye and b) telling myself that it doesn't have to be good anyway. Those inner critics can be persistent buggers - sometimes tricking them is the only way to get anything done!

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I can't believe this has been sitting in my draft folder since MAY! It took an age to research, mostly because Americans will insist on using the word 'pins' to mean badges and brooches, which made googling for other artists who use dressmaking pins rather tedious and time-consuming. In this post I've concentrated on art where the pins are the main focus, rather than a way of anchoring or enhancing other things; I may do a post on pins as a secondary medium at some later date.

I've written about Tara Donovan before - I admire her work immensely and although our work is quite different in scale, there are obvious connections with my own art. I am completely in awe of her huge block of pins. This isn't held together by anything other than the pins natural inclination to wedge themselves together - incredible!


Tara Donovan: Untitled, 2001

Mona Hatoum, another well-known artist, has made several works involving pins, including this sinister looking rug.


Mona Hatoum: Doormat II

American artist, Katie Lewis makes stunning wall pieces using pins, drawing and thread that focus on repetition and counting. I think these are fabulous and I wish I knew a bit more about this artist: I hope she puts a website or a blog up soon.


Katie Lewis: Accumulated Numbness (12 months and counting)


Katie Lewis: Process of Accumulation


Katie Lewis: Body Area x Time

Lisa Kellner uses quilting pins in some of her work. This piece, Oil Spill, uses 60,000 bright yellow pins in a highly patterned work that has echoes of quiltmaking. I'm not entirely sure about the use of yellow in this work but I love the way the heads of the pins nestle against each other.


Lisa Kellner: Oil Spill


Lisa Kellner: Oil Spill

Margaret Diamond makes kinetic works. In her piece, Quietly Suffering, she has pushed pins through canvas and then wired them up to a motor so they move.


Margaret Diamond: Quietly Suffering


Margaret Diamond: Quietly Suffering (close up)

Fortunately there's a short video, so we can see the piece in action. Pins are just amazing when they move, they catch the light in such compelling ways - one of my favourite things about my own piece, Quiver, was the way it gently shimmered as it moved in even the slightest breeze.

Hmm, I notice that all these artists are women, if anyone knows of any male artists working with pins, I'd love to hear about them.

A few other pins links:

This site about the history of lacemaking has some beautiful images of prickings (the pin-pricked paper patterns used for making lace) and a delightful cluster of pins in use during lacemaking.

Unsurprisingly, I love this sort of obsessive stuff - A. Schiller, a convicted forger imprisoned in Sing Sing in the 19th Century spent 25 years carving the Lord's Prayer on 7 pins.

A fun little page about the history of small items like pins, zippers, needles and buttons. Lots of lovely pictures.

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These were all taken today in the early morning sunlight. The autumn has been exquisite this year - it almost makes up for the rather drab summer.

Our beech tree is in its full glory - right before it covers the entire garden with millions of leaves!
Kirsty Hall, photograph of beech tree in autumn
Kirsty Hall: Beech Tree, Nov 2008

I like the dark background on this but I'm not quite sure how I did it.
Kirsty Hall, photograph of beech tree in autumn
Kirsty Hall: Beech Tree, Nov 2008

No fancy Photoshop, this was just taken through one of our very old and distorted Victorian window panes.
Kirsty Hall, photograph of beech tree distorted through old glass
Kirsty Hall: Beech Tree Distorted Through Old Glass, Nov 2008

The morning sunlight on the woodwork in the kitchen. Yes, it really is that blue.

Kirsty Hall, photograph of morning sun on blue wall
Kirsty Hall: Reflections on Blue Wall, Nov 2008

Kirsty Hall, photograph of morning sun on blue wall
Kirsty Hall: Reflections on Blue Wall, Nov 2008

Kirsty Hall, photograph of morning sun on blue wall
Kirsty Hall: Reflections on Blue Wall, Nov 2008

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I really appreciate the comments I get on this blog but I'm a bit lousy at answering them, as those of you who get a reply weeks or months later already know! I've been making an effort to catch up lately and while doing so, I was struck by the insightful comments I got on last month's Falling Off Beams post: it seems that I'm not alone in struggling to find a balance between life and art. Instead of answering the comments individually, I thought I'd quote them here and just for a bit of fun, I set myself the challenge of going to the sites of those who commented and trying to find an image that related to the idea of balance.

Vivien Blackburn wrote:

That description of childhood gym and the terror of that beam for an un-athletic child with no balance brought back memories for me!

me too

and yes, life is often like that

Vivien was easy; on visiting her site, I immediately spotted this beautiful charcoal drawing of an apparently impossibly balanced rock.


Vivien Blackburn: Rocks above Sennen Cove, Charcoal

iHanna wrote:

Thanks for writing what I’m feeling too Kristy! All those unwritten blog posts, all those things one plan and never will get to! :-)

calmness and chaos!

More chaos than calm by the look of it - iHanna's moleskine notebook is full and so is her brain!


iHanna: Image from Moleskine journal

Annalisa from Kaizen Journey wrote:

Well said! I feel as though I have been buffeted by conflicting forces for awhile now too, and like you said balance can be hard to find but the struggle for it is what makes life lively…

This was a tougher choice, I could have chosen some of Annalisa's lovely symmetrical shibori but in the end, I decided on this delicate floating image. Maybe on the days when balance feels hard we can all try to breath deep, lie back and just float a little?


Alsokaizen: In Solution

Daniel Sroka wrote:

I have a partially written post just like this one sitting in my blog’s Drafts folder. I believe that you may need the tension between what you have to do and what you want to do in order to move ahead with either. It is the energy created by the two, like a magnetic force, that pushes you forward.

Wise words there from Daniel, I shall try to keep them in mind the next time I'm beating myself up for not working hard enough. I knew I'd be spoilt for choice on Daniel's site and indeed, the problem wasn't finding something appropriate but narrowing it down to just one image.

Daniel Sroka: Flight

dryadart wrote:

good to know there are others struggling to make room in a “real” life for the art they must make… some days one feels so alone… balance, peace, space, wisdom, all such elusive and fleeting things, thanks for the post

I just loved this quirky drawing from dryadart. I enjoyed the sense that all the figures were slightly off balance, the centre figure in particular looks like she's about to fall.

Lee from Dancing Crow wrote:

thank you for a reminder that balance is not-falling, rather than any simple pose that can be maintained over time. I am flailing my workroom, trying to winnow and weed and return to the pristine space only things I really want to work on. An impossible task, of course, all the old projects and ideas are crowding about looking for a chance to be made (or finished) as well as new ideas…

And here's a perfect image from Lee to finish.


Lee: Untitled

Thanks to everyone who commented, I appreciated all your words of wisdom - although it did make me wonder if any of us are ever in balance? If you have any tips or tricks to finding a balance between your life and your art, then please let me know because it sounds as many of us could do with some help in that department!

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Celia Richards is an artist living and working in Edinburgh. She removes the notes from sheet music to make installations that I find very poetic and delicious.


Celia Richards: Sheet music with the notes removed


Celia Richards: Notes from The Planets (for Two Pianos) by Gustav Holst

I particularly like her works using pianolo rolls because my grandad used to have one in his garage. He had a big box of the rolls and would let us sort through them to load into the machine. We were always awestruck by the undeniable magic of an instrument that played itself.


Celia Richards: Untitled

While exploring her website, I was delighted to find that she's also been using stitch on some of her pieces, including this darned pianolo roll.


Celia Richards: Untitled


Celia Richards: Untitled

There's more of her delightful work on her website and her Flickr pages. Thanks to the Rag And Bone blog for alerting me to her work.

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"If you've done all your own mending, there's a heap of socks to be
looked over. Then I'll show you about darning the tablecloths. I do
hate to have a stitch of work left over till Monday," said Mrs.
Grant, who never took naps, and prided herself on sitting down to
her needle at 3 P.M. every day.

from Jack And Jill by Louisa May Alcott

I should be sitting down to my needle at 3pm every day but sadly I'm still unwell so apart from a tiny bit of drawing, I've not had the energy to make any art. I certainly haven't been able to start the new series of work I'm planning, which involves a lot of sewing. However, I have been researching mending and darning in preparation and I've come across a couple of artists who use darning as an intrinsic part of their work.

...............

San Francisco artist, Michael Swaine trundles around with a handmade sewing cart mending people's clothes and engaging them in conversation.


Michael Swaine: Sewing For The People

There's an interesting video showcasing his projects here. He was recently in Britain undertaking a new project where he documented and darned people's socks.


Michael Swaine: Darning Socks

That little box of thread and tools just makes me drool with longing - the neatness and particularity of it is very appealing to me.

His way of working instantly reminded me of my own Pin Ritual which uses pinning as a conduit for conversations about subjects like domesticity, repetitive labour and, almost invariably, people's grandmothers.

pin ritual 01
Kirsty Hall: Pin Ritual

Celia Pym is a British artist who spent a year darning holes in clothes for her degree show at the Royal College of Art.


Celia Pym: Mend

Unfortunately Celia doesn't seem to have a website, so I can't tell you much more about her although you can see more of her work, including some very lovely little ink drawings, here.

Both these artists were found on Treehugger, an interesting site focused on green issues. Although they don't have a specific art section, they do cover some contemporary art.

Other Darning Links

Prick Your Finger is an alternative haberdashery/knitting shop in London who have a fun blog that often mentions darning. They recently hosted Michael Swaine.

Jerry Barney from Fergus Falls in Minnesota recently wrote a charming post about finding a pair of socks that his mother had darned.

My Front Porch has been darning a sweater, while Kate from Needled repaired some jeans with the help of a vintage book.

I found the diagrams on this 'how to' page about Pueblo darning and mending quite delightful.

...........................

If anyone knows of any other artists who are working with mending or darning, do let me know because I'd love to hear about them.

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The blog has been quite text-heavy in the last few days, so here's an image-based post for a bit of balance.

A couple of weeks ago I planted some coriander seeds that I'd harvested from the plant in my window box. The plan was to have some growing inside over the winter but I don't think it's working since all I seem to be getting is a fine crop of admittedly inspirational mushrooms!

The compost was obviously shot through with mycelium. These come up in little clumps of two or three mushrooms and they only last a day or two at most before they crumple into nothingness.

Kirsty Hall, photograph of 3 tiny translucent fungi
Kirsty Hall: Fungi, Sept 08

In these two shots, you can see how tiny and translucent they are. I was sure this would disintegrate as soon as I picked it up but although it was fragile, it was stronger than it looked and I was able to delicately hold it while I photographed it.

Kirsty Hall, photograph of tiny translucent fungi on palm of hand
Kirsty Hall: Fungi, Sept 08

Kirsty Hall, photograph of tiny translucent fungi on palm of hand
Kirsty Hall: Fungi, Sept 08

Looking at these I was reminded of the incredible mushroom drawings by Chris Drury.

Here is his description of how he makes them:

If you cut off the stem of a mushroom and place it on a piece of paper overnight, covered with a bowl, it will drop its spores onto the paper in the pattern of the gills. The spore print here is digitally scanned and printed in three versions and altered by changing the contrast in Photoshop. The prints are glued and ironed onto the canvas which is built up in layers of gesso to form a surface for writing.
This radiating pattern of spore lines draws you in as a mandala would, but if you take a magnifying glass and follow one line from the centre out to the periphery then you will notice that each line branches and branches again like the limb of a tree. In making these densely written works this is in fact what I do: I follow the principle of the line that branches, only in densely hand-written words, in inks of different tones, with reed pens of different thickness, gathered from the banks of the river (everything flows here) and which have to be constantly sharpened and dried. The written words are repeated and hypnotic, like a mantra. The words cease to have meaning, the concentration is on the sound. A word that has a good sound is easy to write. It flows on to the canvas. The concentration is on the sound, the shape, the size, the colour, the tone, the branches. The words are the mantra that shape the mandala.


Chris Drury: Destroying Angel – Trinity

Chris Drury, Destroying Angel, mushroom spore print and drawing
Chris Drury: Destroying Angel – Trinity
White printed spore prints and radiating lines of text in white ink and pencil on black prepared canvas. Text reads: 'Amanita virosa- Destroying angel'

Needless to say, I adore the obsessiveness and repetitiveness of this process! Imagine doing all that writing, and these aren't small pieces - each canvas is 187cm square. I wonder if he ever makes spelling mistakes? If I was writing something over and over like that, I know I would start losing all sense of the words and I would start getting them wrong. It reminds me of the sort of obsessive use of writing that you sometimes see in Outsider Art.

I've been a fan of Drury's work since I saw his 'Medicine Wheel' piece in Leeds City Art Gallery. That piece - a circular collection of natural objects collected daily for a year - was a definite influence on my Diary Project.

Chris Drury, medicine wheel, circular sculpture of natural objects collected over a year
Chris Drury: Medicine Wheel

Unusually for a well-known artist, Drury not only has his own web site but he even writes a blog. A recent exhibition at the Nevada Museum of Art also has an associated blog by the gallery staff and they even have sets on Flickr.

I'm quite delighted by this. I constantly meet artists who don't have any web presence and don't grasp why this is a problem: I often end up doing five minute impromptu versions of my articles about how artists can use the web. Many famous artists don't even seem to have their own dedicated sites. Seriously, what's up with that? Surely they can afford to pay someone to do it. Hell, if I can do it, surely Damien Hirst can manage it! What's the matter, Damien, did someone pinch 'damienhirst.org' out from under you? I can only assume that they think it's unimportant or perhaps it's seen as a bit too democratic or something - I don't know why it happens but I find it very odd.

So it's fantastic to see an established artist and a big institution using blogging and the net to directly engage with their audience and I hope other mainstream members of the art world will eventually follow suit. I know lots of galleries have websites but I often get the sense that they don't quite 'get' the web; I think many of them still think in terms of the old models of top-down publishing. Hmm, something else to research and think about...

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Katherine from Making Your Mark left a detailed comment on yesterday's blog post that I'm going to address here because she raises some important points.

[Katherine's words are in italics.]

First - I too would have been very annoyed at the tenor of the comments you quoted. (BTW your link for the politician is ‘dead’). It did seem rather generic and sterotyped to me.

Thanks for alerting me to the broken link, Katherine, I fixed it - see what happens when you write impassioned blog posts after midnight!

Second - the Arts Council has been criticised for its last round of grant-giving and there has been an investigation and a report into the chaos which ensued. The report was published at the end of July.

Katherine linked to the report, which is here if anyone wants to read it.

Now on to the meat of what Katherine has to say:

As somebody who, a very long time ago, used to sit on the other side of grant giving machinery (some of which involved the arts) I can tell you that if there wasn’t a fee to pay to process the grant, there would be a whole load more applications from people without serious intent. The net effect of that would be that they would still need to be processed and that would mean money intended for arts would need to be diverted into administration. Administrators, if faced with this sort of situation, then end up devising ways of quickly scuttling applications to whittle them down to a serious few.

Fees are a crude way of diverting those who aren’t serious - but they generally work.

When I was talking about fees, I was only referring to fees for applying for exhibitions, not application fees for grants. Art Council England does not currently ask applicants to pay application fees but it's possible that other funders might. This makes sense since Arts Council officers are already employed to do things like read applications. I can see a case for independent funders such as charities levying an application fee if they are in a situation where they'd otherwise be deluged by applications that they can't afford to process but since I rarely apply for funding, I've no idea if it's a common practice.

I have slightly more tolerance for paying an application fee for a grant application than I do for paying a curator to look at my work, which is what a non-refundable application fee to an exhibition amounts to. In the later case, I think that galleries are exploiting artists as a convenient funding stream. I think it's a lazy and cynical ploy but artists are often so desperate for exposure that they tolerate it. I don't mind shouldering some of the costs ONCE I'M SELECTED but I object strongly to subsidising galleries and other artists by paying a fee just to have my application looked at.

Incidentally, if any gallery owners or arts administrators feel they can justify this practice of charging artists non-refundable fees to apply for exhibitions, I'm happy to give you a platform on this blog to do so - drop me an email.

I understand and accept Katherine's argument that some funders may end up spending all their funding on administration instead of actual funding, although I'd suggest that they might want to address the structure of their own organisation before using fees as a form of screening. Whether I was personally prepared to pay a fee for a funding application would depend on many issues, including how large the fee was and what percentage of applicants were funded. However, from my limited experience in filling out funding applications, most funders seem to prefer to weed out applicants by making the forms long and tedious! Katherine addresses this issue next:

The forms might also be complex - but similarly they tend to test out whether people have really thought through their idea - or whether they just have a good idea which they really need to go away and work on some more.

I agree with Katherine here. Although I loathe filling in any sort of form and the Arts Council forms make me cry, I have found them useful in defining the project that I was seeking to have funded. It can be very illuminating to be forced to analyse what you're trying to do; who and where your audience is and how you're going to attract them; what benefits your project will have for the wider community and what your definitions for success are.

Sure, it's not fun but it can be worthwhile so I don't mind that. What I do strongly mind is the idea that it somehow isn't work. I feel there is a definite cultural bias towards anything artists do being regarded as Not Real Work simply because it's artists who are doing it. This attitude was quite clearly displayed in the comment I took issue with yesterday. Apparently the person in question believes that artists sit around looking pretty and people throw money at them. Hahahaha, if only!

If I design posters, business cards or spend hours on the computer writing up grant proposals why is this somehow miraculously Not Work? If I spend ages working on my website is it Not Work just because I'm an artist? If I spend hours beavering away at something in the studio is it Not Work just because I don't have an immediate buyer for what I've made?

I think this is partly ignorance - most people have no real idea of what artists do all day and many of them would be hocked if they saw the level of detail involved in an Arts Council England funding form or had to wade through the huge tomes of alternate funders with their myriad of different requirements. Anyone who has managed to get funding has invariably jumped through umpteen hoops to secure that money.

Part of the problem is that much of what artists do is speculative and the financial benefits are not immediately apparent or forthcoming. You apply for an exhibition that you might not get into; you apply for a grant because even if you don't get it, it gets your name in front of the funders and that could pay off in the future; you edit your photos because some day you'll need them for applications or magazine articles; you make work that you hope you'll be able to find a venue for... and so on and so forth. So it's not a simple 'effort in = money out' equation and a lot of people don't understand our motivations to keep slogging away at something that we don't get paid for. Like I said yesterday, some days I don't understand it myself! But that's just how it is. Unless you're working solely to commission, most artists follow some version of this 'just get on and make the work and hope the money follows' system at some point in their careers.

You’d be really surprised how many people want to be given money without putting any sort of real effort into making a good case. Seriously.

Sigh, unfortunately I probably wouldn't be surprised at all. When I was curating, I received some absolutely dire applications where it was clear that the person either couldn't be bothered or didn't have a clue what was required. And I was only asking for slides, a CV and an artists statement, which is nowhere near as complicated as a funding form.

I think that anyone who expects to snap their fingers and get public or private funding for any project, art-related or not, is staggeringly naive but a couple of rounds of filling in forms and writing endless begging letters ought to be enough to open their eyes. I remember talking with one of my tutors at art college and he said that a lot of initially promising projects that he was involved with floundered at the funding stage. Hearing that from someone who was relatively well established made it a lot easier when I got my first rejection letters from potential funders.

Finally, I don’t know any business which doesn’t incur marketing costs to get business and generate income. I’ve always seen time spent on grant applications and fees as exactly that - part of the normal cost of doing business. I don’t know why artists should expect to be let off ‘normal costs’ just because they’re artists.

I don't believe that artists should be let off costs simply because they are artists and I also regard applying for opportunities as a necessary part of the costs of being an artist. However, the economy of the arts are undeniably weird. In what other business do so many people work for free so much of the time?

Hell, most of us spend money just being artists. I remember reading years ago that the average annual baseline costs for operating as an artist (studio fees, business expenses, materials etc) was about £5,000 - I imagine it's gone up considerably since then. I have a studio at home partly so that I can afford to be an artist without a part time job yet my costs (art materials, printer ink, web hosting, exhibition costs and travelling expenses to shows etc) still average a couple of thousand pounds most years. And I'm not using a lot of expensive materials...

This would be fine if the arts were well paid and sheer hard work was enough to ensure success but I'm guessing we all know how that one goes!

So - bottom line. I agree with you - lots of artists exercise a whole load of skills other than their talent to try and make art work for them. On the other hand, any artist or organisation which factors in the costs of being business-like into the total equation is far more likely to succeed.

I totally agree and I think that anyone who goes into the arts expecting fame, fortune and everyone to fall at their feet is in for a very rude awakening. As artists we all need educate ourselves about the various financial options available to us. It's vitally important to work out where you fit and what you're comfortable with doing to fund your practice. But that's a discussion for another day because it's probably at least half a dozen blog posts!