I really like this book. The book focuses on the value of making art for art’s sake, and not worrying about brand, metrics, marketing, or What People Will Think.
Some of the tactics and topics in this book I’d already heard about or read, some I had never heard about. One tip I picked up from this book was changing my phone to grayscale to make it less interesting, or less addicting. I’ll probably change my phone back to color as soon as I have a few photos to take, but I love tapping it and seeing it look boring as hell, almost like a graveyard of little square apps made of different shades of marble or granite. Instagram is a lot less appealing to tap on when it is gray. I love Instagram but it’s good to tone it down while painting or making work.
This book is from 2018. I love reading and I’d estimate I usually read about 50-70 books a year. Given this volume, I’ve noticed some feelings I have that have emerged about particular books written in a particular time. Almost all nonfiction business books or culture-angled books written between 2010 and 2020 have a cast of rapidly-formed nostalgia for me. There’s a lot of hope and competitive edges talked about in these books. There are sophisticated problems and crises in these books, like how to deal with a dinner guest who doesn’t say the right thing, how to eat the right combination of foods to make perfect proteins, etc, etc. Unfortunately, my ability to resonate with much of this kind of writing went out the window for me in 2020.
Is that okay? Overall what I’ve learned from no longer being able to resonate with books about dinner party antics is that you never know what kind of history your future readers will be living through.
Given my inability to resonate with a lot of books written from 2010-2020, books that I used to love and tell my friends about, I really liked this book. While reading this book in 2024, I felt that maybe my brain was coming back from its crisis-management state that it morphed into during the COVID crisis. It wasn’t all COVID’s fault, I personally made my brain even more intensely involved in risk-consideration by having a baby in 2022.
Maybe of all things, life-or-death situations take us back to the mission of making art for arts’ sake. Who cares about likes and subscribes and engagement when you have death to avoid and a bundle of joy to protect and cherish?
Overall I needed much of the message in this book right now in 2024. It’s fine to make art for art’s sake, and not so it becomes a viral reel. It’s fine to post a picture of an unhashtagable tree that nobody cares about. I’m currently building an email newsletter list, and I watch my website analytics pretty closely. I think for Rao’s message in this book, it’s not ‘bad’ to do any of this, just to not let it drive or manage the core of your work as an artist. So, I had to ask myself after reading this book - am I letting my marketing tasks dictate how I create work?
I think that how it works for me right now is I make a mix of types of work, I often make series of art that I know will sell or have sold in the past. I also make art that I know nobody will buy or even ‘get’. Or maybe one or two people will get it, but you see what I’m saying.
The artist who makes art for arts sake, whose ethos Rao opens with, is David Bowie. Before picking up this book off the shelf, I had just been thinking about David Bowie’s last album, Blackstar, and the phenomenally weird music video he put out with it, which I personally loved and completely didn’t understand. I did some thinking and I realized I love a lot of art like this, where I don’t get it at all to begin with, but I kind of stick with it and draw out my own sensibilities over time. If I feel really lost I might read an artist interview about whatever I’m confused about.
I think that confused or unknowing feeling is good. Sometimes as an artist, I’ve caused that feeling, and people tell me about.
Sometimes I will be sitting at my art booth at a First Friday in Boulder and someone will pick up one of my prints and ask me what it means, or what it is. There isn’t any answer, or there are a lot of answers. We live in a time where a lot of visual work comes with pithy messages or placards - Tiktoks are like comic strips where the punchline is spelled out as clear as day. Hallmark cards say the right thing for us. Nobody looks at visual content like this and asks what it means. Clarity of meaning is not a morally or aesthetically ‘bad’ thing, and I truly can’t blame anyone for doubling down on clarity or clarity-seeking right now, or in difficult moments. Personally? I often enjoy the fall into the arms of clarity. In the future, 500 years from now, someone may pick up a gnarled piece of wood, dust it off, and read: “Live Laugh Love” and then they may ask what it means, but we all know what that means today.
Eventually, though, I realized that the What Does it Mean Visitor is the kindred soul of myself, when I was sitting in my Austin apartment watching the David Bowie Blackstar video. The Visitor is a sign that, despite all modern distractions and our tendencies to self-edit, we may have made art for art’s sake.