Is it just me, or does it seem as though there’s a proliferation of Good Advice being offered these days? Don’t get me wrong, I love advice. If I’m running short on time when reading the paper, I skip straight to Carolyn Hax; I have Austin Kleon’s Steal Like an Artist top ten list taped over my desk at work (along with Bruce J. MacLennan’s Programming Principles, which is a nice counterbalance). I appreciate that everyone has something useful to offer you, even if it’s a lead by negative example or cautionary tale. I even offer it myself, at least when it comes to matters on which I feel qualified to offer an opinion.

But it’s gotten to be–dare I say?–a bit much. All roads seem to lead to some sort of TED talk, or a “you’re doing it wrong” themed article, or a “Top Ten Ways You Can Do Something Better Than the Way You Are Currently Doing It by A Self-Proclaimed Expert on the Subject.” Perhaps it’s a sign we are all furiously looking for reassurance that we’re living our lives in the right way, or that advice has gone the way of politics; you just find the people whose opinions you already agree with, and can thus pat yourself on the back for doing the right thing.

The other day, however, I stumbled across Cal Newport’s Study Hacks, which I’ve found useful, particularly the Craftsman Manifesto. It went to the heart of an issue that were always nagging the back of my mind, as someone who deplores simplistic “follow your passion” advice which is all that seems to be offered in the art world, who hated being a student but loves learning things, and struggles with the nagging suspicion that in order to be good at something, you can’t rely on flow alone, which can easily lead to not sufficiently challenging yourself. I wish I had a copy of his books when I was a student, too. Probably would’ve saved me a bit of anguish.

It turns out that my previous flow chart is going to be used as a teaching tool(!) for a workshop on writing artist statements. So, following on its heels I’ve created one on reading. I mean, in case your book club needs a few pointers.

This might be a first draft though: I really need to add One Day, How to Be Good, The Things They Carried and some other favorites that wound up getting excluded for no good reason.

Some long-overdue website spring cleaning, as you may have noticed. No promises that it won’t be tweaked inches of its life but, here you are, for now. And my recent projects are now documented, so you don’t have to go digging through my drawings to see ‘em.

I documented the play-by-play on my tumblr account, but here’s my new piece at the Flashpoint Gallery titled, “Inscrutable Comic.”

There’s an opening reception that coincides with Calder Brannock’s Adventure Residency Program Headquarters, but it’ll be up for a indefinitely, so do check it out if you’re in town! Official information from the Flashpoint below:

Join us for the opening reception of Calder Brannock’s “Adventure Residency Program Headquarters” Friday, March 23, 6-8pm.

Flashpoint Gallery will play home base for artist Calder Brannock’s “Adventure Residency Program Headquarters.” The project builds upon Brannock’s earlier project, Camper Contemporary, a mobile art gallery fashioned from a vintage camper. Brannock will expand upon Camper Contemporary’s Adventure projects, organizing artists and audience members to take trips to produce artworks based on shared experiences. Visitors will be encouraged to borrow objects from the gallery in order to create self-guided personal adventures.

Calder Brannock: Adventure Residency Program Headquarters
March 23 – April 27, 2012
Opening Reception: March 23, 6-8pm

Gallery Hours: Tuesday – Saturday 12-6pm or by appointment

Dana Maier, “Inscrutable Comic”
Plus, be sure to check out Flashpoint alum Dana Maier’s “Inscrutable Comic,” a new wall drawing in our back hallway.

I’ve been in a didactic mood, apparently! So yeah, one of my pet peeves is art writing, particularly artist statements, which I believe get an unfair free pass at being annoying at best, and poorly written pieces of garbage at worst. So to help eradicate the problem and teach myself a new design skill in the process, I’ve created a helpful flow chart:

You’re welcome.

1. Don’t expect them to read it.
2. Don’t inquire if they’ve read it. Ever.
3. If there’s a book that’s truly worth your proselytizing, buy a separate copy and never ask for it to be returned. Lending someone a book is essentially the same as saying, ‘here, do this thing you probably don’t have time for.’
4. Know your audience. Don’t be the guy who hands off Franzen to the girl who only reads chick lit novels.
5. Never recommend a book to improve someone, or enlighten someone–that’s just arrogant, and will likely backfire anyhow. Instead, recommend good stories.

Awhile ago I decided that I needed a mini portfolio of sorts. Something that the viewer could hold in their hands, emphasizing the intimacy of my small drawings and containing information about my work that didn’t sound like text I’d been forced to write for a grant application. So I’ve created 8×5 inch folios that have prints and various statements about my art, completely ripping off drawing inspiration from Edward Gorey’s Twelve Terrors of Christmas and my own scrawled ‘artist statements on a coaster’ I’d created last year.

This project, which I thought I’d complete in a weekend, took lots and lots of drafts, statements I abandoned for sounding too whiney or defensive, and two trips to the Paper Source, which is one of those Ikea-esque establishments that you look forward to visiting, but prompt you go just a little insane upon stepping inside. But I’m happy to report that I am now on the homestretch, and pleased with the results.

I’m also working on these two pieces side by side, (one is 3 feet by 4 feet, the other 16×20 inches) which I like, though like much of my work, both are stuck in an infinite loop. They are the sort of drawings that will never, ever feel done, I can tell; the kind that make me feel grateful for deadlines when the work is forced to come to some sort of conclusion. For now though, I’m enjoying the ride:

I spent the ten days after Thanksgiving traveling throughout Barcelona, Avignon, and Paris with my mom. It was my first visit to Barcelona, and I was curious to see the Gaudi buildings, since the dripping architectural stuctures in my drawings have been compared to him (okay, one guy said that, one time, but I took it to heart). We went to the Sagrada Familia on a Monday in November, already swarming with fellow tourists at 10:00 AM, but as the guidebooks tell you, nothing prepares you for the impact of seeing it for the first time. That thing is not only huge, it’s…bizarre, but wonderfully so, because it’s not how a church is supposed to look.

It reminded me of a cartoonist I once heard giving a presentation, talking about how he never was able to finish panels. “I just need to add more stuff,” was how he put it. And I knew exactly what he meant. A lot of artists don’t know when to say when, which I don’t mean as a criticism, but as the highest possible compliment. It’s the kind of obsessiveness that gives you thinks like the Sagrada Familia, or Chris Ware cartoons, or anything else that requires devoting oneself, full-throttle, to some sort of grand artistic cause, regardless of whether or not it’s sensible.

The images below are the four small drawings I did while I was traveling (mostly in cafes, or on the train while looking at the countryside and listening to the new Steve Jobs autobiography, which I highly recommend). I also have high quality prints of works available at the Pleasant Plains, which has a closing party this Tuesday, if you still have last minute Christmas shopping.

I’m very excited to be participating in Part and Parcel (it got some nice write ups about Chandi’s vision for the show in TBD and the Huffington Post). Opens this Saturday night at 8 at the Fridge in Eastern Market! I’ll have one of my rarely seen larger works on display, along with my mystery piece.

Official description:

Work by Frank Adams, Keli Anaya, Deborah Anzinger, Chris Chen, Rachel England, Jessica Ford, Elizabeth Graeber, Becca Kallem, Chandi Kelley, Regan Kireilis-Helms, Stephanie Kwak, Jon Lee, Dana Maier, and Kristoffer Tripplaar.

The expression “part and parcel” is used to reference something that must be done or accepted as a part of something else. Without the venue to sell works on a small scale, many artists wouldn’t have the means to create some of their more substantial works. Part and Parcel is an opportunity to showcase large scale works by Project Dispatch artists while emphasizing the importance of the subscription. We will be displaying one piece next to each large work that will be wrapped in brown paper to represent the subscription. Patrons will be able to purchase the larger work or take a risk on the smaller, wrapped piece by the same artist. These smaller works will be the beginnings of subscriptions, but will remain unopened until after they are purchased. By showing these seen and unseen works alongside each other, we want to emphasize that the project is an integral part of the practice for the artists involved.

Several months ago, I had a very earnest discussion regarding the personalities of various liquor types. For example: vodka I always imagined as a slender, tall blonde. A party girl. Rum is her date, rugged and handsome, but will kick your ass if need be. Gin is the man in the suit in the corner with a flower on his lapel. Beer is the dude in faded jeans watching the game; bourbon is the well dressed philosophy major who is an excellent listener.

I mention this because I was recently reading about DC’s artistic identity to which the same thought experiment can apply. Saying that lots of people make art in Washington DC doesn’t tell you very much, since that’s true of a lot of cities. But if you met the DC Art Scene in a bar, how would it compare to New York Art Scene? Or LA Art Scene or Baltimore Art Scene?

Since these personifications are just the first that pop into my head based upon my own experiences (or lack thereof), I’d be curious to hear others. So please put your own visions in the comments. If DC’s art scene was a guy in a bar, who would it be?