Ashlee Rubinstein

Originally posted on 05-06-2019
Today concludes the last day of my residency at the Vermont Studio Center.  This is their 35th year of offering Vermont residents a week to create and follow their artistic inclinations.  I was lucky enough to be accepted this year and even luckier to have permission to take a week off of teaching.  This is my first residency program and frankly, it was long overdue.

In the few and short years that I have been committed to getting my teaching license and getting my career going, my artistic practice has taken a back seat.  I can count the number of the paintings I’ve made in the last three years on one hand.  Don’t get me wrong, I make art all the time, but it’s small things: a drawing here, an oil pastel there, an example for my students’ assignments mostly.  Yet, it has been a significant amount of time since I was as creative and productive as when I was in art school.

Monday, I arrived with a project in mind, 6 large canvases, and a head cold.  Still, I committed to making the most out of my time here and not letting this opportunity go to waste.  I quickly stepped back into the life of a studio artist.  I painted from 8am-8pm like there was no tomorrow.

I created a body of work unlike anything I’ve previously made.  I wasn’t sure were I was going with things, yet I trusted instinct.  At the end of the week, I had a studio visit with a guest artist.  She asked me basic questions that I’ve been asked dozens of times before: what is your work about? what is your practice like? and who are you looking at?  I looked at her dumbfounded.  After all these years, I didn’t have answers.  I talk art all the time and it is my job, but since becoming a teacher, I have lost track of who I am as an artist.  It didn’t hit me until that moment.  In the past, I’d be able to list off at least a dozen artists I admired and who influenced me.  This week, I couldn’t name more than two.  But these were artists I was looking at 3-5 years ago.  I didn’t know who I was looking at today, because I wasn’t looking at anyone!  Who am I as an artist now?

The question left me shook.  For years, I had been questioning myself as an artist.  Was I still one?  Was I any good to begin with?  Was it worth still pursuing?  This week, I made the decision that it was.   I was still an artist.  I loved being back in the studio; it felt like home.  Furthermore, I decided that I didn’t want to loose the practice that I had re-found.

Today, as the this residency comes to an end, I re-commit to my practice.  I do not want to lose this side of me.  Working on my practice will also help me as a teacher.  If I can re-connect with my artistic side more, I can help my students connect with their’s as well.

Originally posted on 01-24-2017

Since I could hold a crayon, I knew that I wanted to be an artist. As I went through grade school, I did not really have the opportunity to take art classes. When I did, I was terrified of many of my art teachers. They were women who were harsh and unapproachable, and while all I craved was their attention and approval, all I got was overlooked and discouraged. Art became a private activity, not for school, and something to be saved for later. It was something that I believed would eventually unfold to me if I was patient enough to wait for it.

The moment I stepped foot onto my college campus, I declared myself as an art major. For the next four years, I was told what I could not do: you can not declare so early, you can not take those two different classes together, you can not paint the way you want, you can not do anything extracurricular if you are an art major, you can not have an A if you do not do things exactly as I tell you to do them, you can not get into that class so do not bother trying to get in, and you can not make it as an artist once you leave here, so you should just change majors now. All I was told was what I could not do, never what I could accomplish. For years, I had been looking forward to the freedom that college was supposed to give me. I was a sponge eager to finally soak up formal training in the field that I was so passionate about. Instead, I was disappointed by the reality of my situation. Broken down by all the rules of being an artist in the 21^st Century, I played the only game I had been taught how: the dutiful student. I did what I was asked. I tried to please my teachers at my own expense. I let my inner artist and creativity be crushed and pushed aside. I saw it happening to the students all around me.

After I graduated college, I was no longer a student and finally felt free to make whatever art I wanted. It was liberating. I had no one to answer to, and I was fed up enough with the last four years of schooling not to care. I painted what made me happy, did not worry if it was “real” art or “student” art, and found an enjoyment in just being alone in my own studio space. I even had a few shows. Apparently, what I liked to paint was good enough to show in the real world, which was affirming to me as an artist breaking out of the student mindset.

I still craved the formal education that I had always thought would complete my practice. I wanted to be classically trained, and not just figure it out on my own. I have always been interested in learning the technical side of any of my passions, wanting to know why things are done a certain way and how to follow through with different processes. I applied for graduate school, needing more guidance in mastering my chosen craft in the visual arts.

The process brought back all the negative experiences of my initial schooling. I was told by school after school that I was not good enough to get into a Master’s degree, that I needed more training, and that I was behind because I had not gone to an art school for my undergraduate degree. I thought, “But that’s why I’m applying! To get good! To get the training!” They told me that I had to take some classes before I could get into a master’s degree program, and so I did. It was just like college all over again: you can not paint like that, why would you want to paint like that, no one paints like that anymore, you should paint like this, you should not paint, painting is dead, pick something more trendy to do, and do everything that I say. At this point, I was not about to lose everything that I had worked so hard to achieve. I was not going to let them stifle my creativity or my voice. I was not just a student anymore; I was finally an artist! Why was it so wrong for me to make art the way that I was drawn to making it? What made them so right about what was the right type of art and what was the wrong type of art? It was then that I learned to fight and stand up for myself as an artist and as a creative individual. Once again, I saw my classmates and how their passions were being crushed left and right. I learned how to stand up for them as well. When we decided that we no longer needed the approval of our professors, our outlooks on art changed. We were able to respond to each other’s ideas, passions, and creativity. It was no longer about fitting a mold, but about finding out who we each were. The act of giving someone the permission to be himself or herself opened everyone up as a person and as an artist. It allowed there to be a creative conversation, rather than following an academic decree of how things needed to be done. That being said, graduate school was an arduous couple of years where I was constantly fighting and defending myself to my professors and sometimes even my fellow classmates.

It took me what feels like forever to call myself an artist. I had always wanted to be an artist. In school, I studied art. But I always felt like a student, not an artist. It has been a long road, and some days I still feel like that student waiting for an assignment so that I can create. Today, I am confident in my own voice and in my right to have a voice as an artist.

I assume that many artists struggle with what to create. If not, I envy them. Sometimes divine inspiration hits, and other times finding an idea is like searching for a needle in a haystack for me. Usually, I let the every day influence me, and struggle not to overthink it. I am inspired by the people around me. I am inspired by the things we take for granted from day to day. I enjoy the mundane. I like to examine my world from my own viewpoint. To me, it does not matter what someone might about the validity of the topics I choose to paint I do not care if my work is ‘showable’ at a Chelsea gallery in New York City. I am happy when I can find a venue that appreciates my work, whether it is a gallery, a coffee shop, or a friend’s living room wall. I focus on trusting my instincts. I still have to fight my insecurities and my doubts. I tell myself that it is okay to put an idea down and see if it works. I am allowed to fail. Hopefully, when I do put my work out into the work, people will respond to something in the pieces. I love finding those connections. It makes the entire process of creating real for me.

Originally posted on 08-20-2015

For years, I have worked on the flip side of the art world, that is, in galleries, schools, etc.  And for years, I have been told how flaky and unprepared artists are, and I have seen it myself!  I promised myself that I would never be one of those artists, that I would always have my work wired, lists ready to go, and be on time for pick ups, drop offs, and receptions.  However, a few weeks ago, I was not.  I was very unprofessional.  I made an incredibly difficult decision, one that I struggled with.  I took my artwork out a gallery three weeks before my show was suppose to end to put it in another show.  Why would I do such a thing?

I’m not going to name names, but I had a solo show with an art center.  All summer I looked forward to this show, and spent all my free time between multiple jobs working on new paintings.  The day came to hang my show.  The owner met me at the gallery, which was currently serving as a day care for young children.  As I laid out my work, gingerly stepping over piles of shoes and art projects, I was informed that my show was not going to be seen by anyone.  The gallery would be closed for the entire month that my show would be hanging.  I was devastated.  All the work I had done was for nothing.  I would get an opening and that would be it.  If someone wanted to make an appointment to come see it, it would have to align with the owners’ busy schedules, who were now taking vacations, having new children, getting married, etc.  No one was going to see my show.

My opening was underwhelming.  I received minimum advertising from the gallery.  The had posted in the local art map, and that was it.  Not even a shout out on their website or their Facebook page.  I was told to create my own event and promote it myself.  So that is what I did.

As guests arrived, the owner made it her mission to prevent me from speaking to anyone.  I was not renewing my contract with the gallery, so she did not want me deterring potential members.  She greeted every guest like they were her new best friend, except my parents, who she purposely avoided to the point that my mother even commented on the cold shoulder they were receiving.  I spoke to the other owner, who’s response was that the other woman was upset with me for abandoning them.

When I had signed with these two a year ago, they had just started this brand new business where they wanted to represent artists and form a community where we could all mingle and interact.  Fast forward to present day, I had received four opportunities to show my work: one being this show, one being a totally legit show that I was happy with, one where I was filling in for an artist that had backed out at the last moment, and lastly one at a brewery where my work was placed behind a stack of barrels.  Most of these occurred when I had first signed up, and then there was radio silence from them for about 6 months or so.  With regards to the community aspect of the program, there had been two group critiques that had good turn-out, but then were cancelled due to the colder months and then never heard from again.

I was told that they were focusing on the new art center they had just rented and were trying to promote classes there, specifically for children.  Great! I thought, I can teach.  Only two of my classes ran, both featuring mainly or only friends of mine that I had invited.  For my first class that actually ran, I waited outside in below freezing weather for a half an hour waiting to be let in, as did those attending who had started showing up with the doors being locked.  Every month, there was minimum advertisement, but I expected low numbers due to the program being new.  Every month, I would text the owner, asking them whether my class would be running or not.  Usually I’d get a response only minutes before I was suppose to leave to teach.  For the last class this summer that I was scheduled to teach, I was told flat out only an hour before the class was suppose to start that they didn’t promote the class, and that they didn’t even want it to run.  Two people had signed up, and they decided to cancel it anyway.  They told me that they would start refocusing on classes in the fall.

Back to present day.  I had an opportunity to show at a large art event in town.  I originally thought that I would be able to show my new work in both.  The aforementioned gallery kept pushing my show back.  Two weeks after my opening, I got an email saying to drop off my work the next day.  What was I going to do?!  My work was still in the other show.  I had a decision to make: keep the work up or lose the chance to have my work up at the largest art event in Vermont.  I decided to stand up for myself and do what was best for me and my career.  I took my work down.

I might have burned a bridge, but hopefully new ones will be built.  I’ve already had great feedback from my show, and a few opportunities from it.  Most importantly, people are now seeing my artwork.  I can only hope that I have made the right decision.  I hated having to take down my show early, but I also hate being taken advantage of by the people I put my trust in.  It is incredibly hard to try and make it as an artist, but it shouldn’t have to be.  Why does the art world need to be so cut-throat?  Why can’t we all just help each other make it?  More on this later.  Until then, here’s some eye candy.

Originally posted on 02-06-2015

An important part of being an artist is being able to talk about your work. Yes, we are visual people. We create images that are meant to be seen. Yes, some of us are bad with our words. Regardless, it is essential to be able to speak about your work and the works of other artists. More importantly, it is a great way to create a community of artists.

I love critiques. I never realized how much I would miss having them after graduate school. It is such an important part of the artistic practice to get outside feedback about your work. Someone who isn’t as close to the work as you are will see something you might be missing. It is essential to see how your work is being read. Not all feedback with be welcomed, warranted, or even correct, but it is a great way to gather information in moving forward in current projects as well as future ones.

I have recently joined a local artist community in my town. Every month, we have critiques where members and non-members can bring their recent work (and snacks) to get feedback from their fellow artists. It is totally different from an academic setting. Buzz words aren’t being used as often. Not everyone is on the same educational or artists level, but the same can be said about those viewing your work in galleries, coffee shops, or wherever. Therefore, you are getting a broad range of criticism. Everyone is friendly, because you’re not competing for a grade or a fellowship. It is a good way to meet people, find new opportunities, and to make a name for yourself within your artistic communities.

All in all, I can not say enough about the benefits of critiques. I highly encourage those who are not doing so to join an artists group, or invite some friends over and see what they think about your work. Add some wine and it can be a great evening for all!

Originally posted on 01-24-2015

Trying to make it as a professional artist in this day in age is a labor of love. You have to be absolutely sure of what you’re getting into. You’re not going to make much, if any, money selling work. In reality, you will lose money making it. You will have to take jobs that you are less enthusiastic about in order to support yourself. You will have to find a way to make time to paint (or insert medium of choice here), and eventually, you will come to a point when you realize that you aren’t painting, you are just working. What do you do? Well, you have several options: 1) you promise yourself you will try to make time; 2) you decide art is the most important thing, and quit your job to focus on your passion; 3) more reasonably, you cut back on hours at work so you can spend some time in your studio, if you’re luck enough to have one; or 4) you married into wealth and now you can spend all day indulging your every whim and selling work to your new rich friends ( 5) is that you were always wealthy so none of this applies to you, so congrats!).

I am guilty of getting lost in work. Living is expensive, and, for me, it is difficult to focus on my studio practice when I’m more concerned with making money and paying my bills. After graduate school, I told myself that I was ok with taking whatever job crossed my path, that I would keep looking for opportunities, paint, and show my work. I knew it was going to be hard, but I don’t think I really did. Most jobs I had sucked. They were fine for a while, even enjoyable for the first few months, and then the inevitable decline happened and the honeymoon was over. Bouncing around from job to job didn’t help, trust me, I’ve tried. How was I going to get out of this rut?

Plan B: Focus on art.

Yes, this should have been Plan A all along. When my graduate advisor told us we should leave school and not worry about jobs but just paint, I thought he was crazy. I still do! But he was a little right. We should be focusing on our art and not let it take a backseat. But how do we do that and support ourselves? I also found the answer to this in grad school: teach art.

I didn’t get my master’s degree to teach. I wanted to work on the skills I didn’t think I got in college, and to make sure that I had tons of resources available to me when I was on my own in my studio. But while I was there, I really enjoyed helping the other students.

Since then, I have been teaching after school art to elementary students. It’s been fun and crazy, exhausting, rewarding, and super stressful some of the time. Recently, I quit my other job (not art related) because i couldn’t handle it anymore. I decided it was art or nothing. So, here’s Plan A revised: I work part time making art and part time teaching art. I can think of nothing better than sharing my passion of art with others.

Right now, I am working on getting my teaching certificate to open up job opportunities. I’ll be able to teach art from Pre-K through graduate school. I’d still really like to teach college art, but for now, I’m looking forward to getting younger kids excited about making art, and the older ones ready for applying to schools.

I’m really excited about my prospects at the moment, and, more importantly, I’m looking forward to having more time to make my art.

Originally posted on 05-26-2014

Here it goes.  I’m going to admit for all the world the most embarrassing thing a painter can ever say:  I have not been in my studio for about two months.  I know!  It is shameful.  I am ashamed.  But what does one do?!  Life gets in the way.  Work gets in the way.  Lack of motivation gets in the way.  So where does this leave me….

I have no idea.

Part of me thinks that everyone goes through this,”painter’s block,” but no one likes to talk about it.  It is unacceptable for anything less than twelve hours a day in the studio.  But really? Does that actually happen for normal peons such as myself?  When I’m not trying to support myself, I’m too busy stressing about supporting myself.  I’m tired from my two jobs that do not pay the bills.  And on top of that, I’m stressing even more about the fact that I’m not painting!  But that doesn’t help to motivate me.  So I fall deeper down the rabbit hole of despair.

In graduate school, it was so easy to motivate.  Even weekends were spent getting up early and spending the entire day in the studio.  Laundry could wait.  Grocery shopping could wait.  Life was put on hold as the paint flowed onto the canvas as easy as breath entering and exiting the lungs.  But not anymore.  Which leads me to the second worst thing I could possibly admit out loud (or on paper): Am I really a painter?

More shame.

The thought crumbles the entire basis that I have so-far built my life around, me being an artist.  If I’m not, it has all been in vain: college, graduate school, not following a more lucrative major, working retail and any job that popped up to support my “actual career” that is suppose to be a fine artist.  Am I just another lackey working a job that I am currently overqualified for with a BA and MFA?  The answer to that scares me.

Do I need to make art anymore?  Is it a fantasy of a child who doesn’t understand how the real world works?  Even my idea of supporting myself by teaching, does it follow the old saying: “Those who can’t teach.”  I can’t even get a job doing that!  The world is full of people like me with their heads in the clouds and their wallets empty at the beginning of every month.

I don’t really have a conclusion to this rant.  In the end, I just hope that this too will pass.  I hope it hasn’t all been for naught, and that tomorrow, I shall come home from my non-art related job, saunter into the studio, and pick up a paintbrush and put it to canvas.  Until then, I will continue to fret.

Originally posted on 02-06-2014

Now we go to the other side of the spectrum.  From foods that are bad for you to foods that have gone bad, here is the beginning of my new series of work:

More to come later

Originally posted on 09-25-2013
Every professor any art student has ever had has given the same advice to their students: “If you can do anything but art, do it.”  After going through college and then graduation, and being out for only a few short months, what do I think about this advice, ABSOLUTELY YOU SHOULD!

I don’t need to tell you that making a living as an artist is hard; everyone knows that.  But here I am, working two jobs to support myself (and not doing the best job at that), and not painting a stroke.  Yes, I have work up in a few places, and yes, a couple of my paintings have sold (literally two) since my thesis show, but already I am doubting my life choices (who doesn’t in their 20’s?).

Regardless, I can’t imagine what else I could be doing instead? And, did I waste my time (and money) pursuing art degrees?  Don’t get me wrong, I love art.  But did I need to study it in school?

Yes?… Truth is, I don’t know.  If I think about what I learned, I’m not impressed with my education.  Having not really studied art before college, I was excited about the prospect and declared my major in the first month of class.  That being said, I didn’t learn much.  I think my Intro to Color class was the most informative.  Everything else, not so much.  Instead, I was faced with a handful of professors from the Ab-Ex generation, all of which wanted me to paint just like them.  Being young and impressionable, and kind of a kiss-ass, I wanted to earn my A’s and did what was required of me to achieve this, even though my true passions lie in figurative realism.  Four years later, I was frustrated and annoyed.  I graduated not knowing who I was as an artist, and not at all satisfied with my technically knowledge.

So what did I do? I took a year off to experience real life and then I applied to graduate school.  But I didn’t get in anywhere.  Instead, I was offered a spot a post-baccalaureate program.  I uprooted myself and moved to a new city in hopes of filling in those holes in my education.  Once again, disappointment.

Did you know that painting was dead?  Well no one told me that in the four years I was studying it in undergrad, nor the year after was I was still painting and showing my work. But this school insisted!  What I was doing was redundant, and should be done with a camera.  I should switch my medium to something more modern, something more hip, like installation or video or performance.  But I’m a painter!, I insisted.  No longer the naive freshman, I fought all my professors and gave up on the school.  I would re-apply to master’s programs and find a place where I would never have to hear the term “conceptual art” again.

I found the complete opposite of where I was, and once again I was uprooting my life in hopes of finding what I was looking for, that magical place that would teach me everything I wanted to know about art and technique.

Life is full of disappointment, and so is art school.  The school that was suppose to teach me everything about painting, to make me a better painter, to stand alone in a world where conceptual rules over technical; what a let down.  It was the same old song.  They wanted you to paint just like they did, and if you didn’t, well, let’s just say it was a tough two years.

So what did I learn? I learned that if you want to learn how to do something, teach yourself how to do it, because that’s what I did, and my friends did, and that’s the only way to become the kind of artist you want to be.  Art is not taught in schools any more.  If you can prove me wrong, and find the perfect place that has everything you could ever want, props to you; you found the unicorn.  But if you’re like me, and the majority, don’t rely on someone else to teach you how to be an artist.  At the end of it all, what should you do?

MAKE ART!!!!

But at the same time, if you can do anything else, do it, too!

Originally posted on 09-21-2013

After graduating from graduate school in May, I felt the need to leave NYC.  The art scene there wasn’t for me.  My work wasn’t about to be shown in Chelsea any time soon.  The Gagosian isn’t going to come knocking on my door for paintings of doughnuts.  I fled the city with what was left of my sanity and moved to Vermont.

Vermont has almost as many artists as it does cows, and all of them are painting cows.  Cows, barns, landscapes, to be more exact.  The niche here is almost as specific as it is in NYC.

So here I am, living in Vermont, working retail, trying to figure out what my plan is for developing a career as an artist.  Is it even possible?

Whereas in New York City, young artists are hoping to get their chance at Chelsea, emerging artists here hope to get their work on the bottom of a Burton snowboard.

Standing at the register of the book store, killing time until close, I was going through some art magazines when I realized something, all the art is the same!  Arthur Danto put it best when he said that we are at the end of the history of art.  Everything has been done, is still being done, and is being done by tons of different artists.  Where do us young artists fit into this mix?  How can we distinguish ourselves?

One can only hope that his or her work is better than most of the junk out there.  But what if it isn’t?  What if it’s somewhere in the middle, lost among the herd?  Do we continue to push that bolder up the hill, knowing that our struggle is futile, but hoping against all hopes that we might make it to the top?  I wish I had the answer.

Originally posted 08-03-2013

For many of us hopefuls, we were not discovered right out of our MFA Thesis show.  Our shows weren’t bought out.  We weren’t collected.  Instead, we were left with school bills, no serious job prospects, and many questions.  What do we do now?  Teach? Yeah, good luck…

But that’s what you do out of grad school, no?  I’m afraid not.  Getting a teaching gig is about as probable as getting picked up by a gallery.  And why is that?  The economy?  Maybe.  But the real reason is that there are no openings.  All the positions are taken.  Back in the day, there were nothing but teaching positions.  Schools were grabbing artists right out of undergrad, but no more.  These same artists, now professors, are still at it, holding on to their cozy teaching jobs, leaving a generation of artists desperately sending out resumes to every and any school that might have them.

My mantra since graduation has been hoping that someone will get pregnant and I can swoop in and get my foot in the door.  Right now, a more realistic response is to hope for someone to retire or (too ashamed to say the alternative).

And where am I in all of this?  I’m sending out resumes to every place within 2-3 hour driving distance, applying to handfuls of exhibitions in hopes of padding my CV to make myself more appealing to the hiring committees.  I’m a little more discerning than most in applying, only approaching places that are asking for it.  Three months out of grad school, I have an interview next week for a position teaching a section of Drawing I.  I consider myself fortunate to have even gotten the interview.  Wish me luck.