Dan Petley – Master of Pariahs
This
is a documentation of the changing relationship with my work since graduation.
Hopefully some of you will find these often quite negative insights into this
slightly difficult period in my work useful and comforting.
In
August, I graduated, with a first class Honours degree in Fine Art Practices.
My sense of pride in myself was sent into overdrive. I felt that my work had
been certified by the establishment, its authority had been cast in stone, and
shining like a beacon, ignited by my own institutionally venerated genius, it
screamed to all ‘Behold the work of Dan Petley, but more importantly, behold
Dan Petley!’
Of
course, this facile ceremony signified a new phase in my work, one that any
graduating artist is confronted with, i.e., the prospect of continuing to make
art after the removal of the safe institutional framework. Since graduating, I
have found myself in a state where I have felt obliged to confront my art, and
myself, with a lot of soul-searching questions.
The
first question that I, as a newly graduated practicing artist, found myself
asking was, ‘What are the options available to me?’ I considered what other
people have done in my situation and being a habitual list writer, I jotted
down these 4 options in my sketch book.
1.
Get a job in the arts.
2.
Do a Masters.
3.
Get any job to fund my work as an artist.
4.
Fuck art. I didn’t like it anyway.
First
of all let’s get option number 1 out of the way. There are not many jobs out
there like these, and furthermore there is a recession going on, so there are a
lot of people going for these positions. Try it by all means; I went to some
auditions in
Ok,
option number 2. A few years ago I came to a realisation that I had no intention
of ever studying a fine art Masters, having been consistently disappointed not
only by the holier-than-thou attitude that can develop amongst those who have
taken this option, but by the quality of work on display at shows put on by
people taking part in masters programmes. A recent discussion with a friend and
fellow artist about the currently popular process for artists to go straight on
to a Masters after studying B.A., helped me to
meditate on this further. I shall quote him directly, ‘How many people start a
Masters degree with the express purpose of producing more great work? How many
people rather pay for and study for a Masters degree because it’s the next step
in a pre-programmed route towards becoming a recognised artist?’ My belief is
that artists get lazy and often don’t progress beyond the quality of their BA
work when they fail to break the shackles of the academic system. Surely I’m
not alone in feeling this way? There must be other graduates who have noticed
that work often struggles to continue to be challenging in the aforementioned
‘pre-programmed route’? Am I really playing out such a vulgar pariah status by
shunning this process?
And
so on to option 3. This is the option that I have taken. I do a soul destroyingly pointless job, which gives me just enough
money to pay my rent. In this time of recession, it has been harder to get
work, which never has been a problem for me until now. So I have ended up doing
something really un-stimulating. However, I am delighted to be making money. My
desire to produce artwork hasn’t been hindered by the removal of the academic
framework, but my attempts to give it a relevant place in the world certainly
have.
I
have developed a number of new projects, such as an extreme techno DJ alter ego,
as well as continuing to exhibit my jewellery and paintings. Many of these
endeavours have triggered or exacerbated some negative feeling in me about the
way that my work fits in and is received in the art establishment, whether it
be annoyance at gallery shows that sacrifice creative integrity to focus on
sales, or being involved in shows where I have been enraged by the lacklustre
efforts of fellow artists, or even just feeling let down by events that have
failed to engage the non art community.
Rather
than feel too downhearted about these issues, I have developed the hypothesis
that the aforementioned unintentional pariah status that I have developed in
this difficult time has somehow become a heavy but gratifying cross for me to
bear, triggering not only rage and displeasure, but a strong desire to make
good work.
From
this springboard, I have realised that I should waste less time on feeling
cheated by the apathy of, dare I say it, less enlightened artists. I should
just proudly carry on educating myself, and get on with producing my own work.
If only something could give me confidence that other artists were trying to
make challenging work that struggles to be relevant and exciting, that is open
to interpretation by the whole community without sacrificing its own integrity
by being too accessible, maybe I could take even more pleasure in setting
myself against the shackles of the academic system.
I
believe that my damning of the academic system, far from being impertinent,
should be looked at as a positive thing. This system supported me when I was
developing my identity as an artist, but by breaking away from this, I feel
that I have ironically followed some of what was preached to me in this time,
since this academic system, from where I stand at least, appears to have evolved
into a prison of convention that encourages insincere and complacent work. I
would like to use this opportunity to encourage artists to challenge themselves
by breaking away from this over-protective parent, and striving to produce work
on their own terms.
As
for option 4, it is obviously not one that I would recommend to anyone who ever
had a creative bone in their body. Whoever says ‘fuck art’ and means it is
saying ‘fuck culture and humanity’. This is a coward's response to the
enlightening struggles that creative practitioners like ourselves have to
become accustomed to. To anyone who sees option 4 as a preference, I pity you.
As
for me, I shall obstinately continue to produce my work, and hope that the
readers of this piece will feel encouraged to persist with their practice, keep
it challenging, and most importantly, enjoy it!
With
thanks to Dan Sidey and John Chapman