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.