About the chip on my shoulder
Soon after I started blogging, a friend told me that the tone of some of my articles revealed that I had a bit of a chip on my shoulder. I remain grateful for that precious piece of feedback. Though I didn’t want to come across like that, I could certainly see what she was saying.
And it’s true, I did have a chip on my shoulder. I was tortured by the belief that other artists and art world types didn’t take my work seriously, that they viewed it as “vanity art.” If I wrote about portraiture’s embattled status time and again on my blog, it was because I was trying to validate my own work as I validated my genre.
Gwenn Seemel and Becca Bernstein
Daughter
2009 and 2010
acrylic on canvas and wood
36 x 60 inches (combined dimensions)
Around this time last year, I came to a realization that my obsession with championing my genre wasn’t convincing anyone and that I was just giving myself a complex. Although I didn’t see it at the time, I think Subjective was a big part of being able to give up my silly crusade—or at the very least fight it without the bitterness. The series that Becca and I created is an eloquent visual argument in favor of portraiture’s delicate and profound nature. Making Subjective gave me a measure of peace.
But, as much as I’d like to say that I’m now cured and that I’ve finally removed the chip from my shoulder, it’s still watching every painting I make from its perch, though now it has a different shape. And I still use my blog as a platform for my staircase wit. Many of my articles are inspired by encounters I have had with art world types where I have felt judged for one reason or another—for having a home studio, a strong sense of style, or a desire to know all of my patrons—and where I have not had the wherewithal to respond immediately to the person who was lecturing me on the “right” way to do things.
In all of this, the thing that disturbs me most is the pattern I see: the comments that I tend to react to on my blog are from people who are part of the art scene. I’ve had my fair share of condescension from people outside the community who think that everyone who calls her-him self an artist must be a feckless starving one, but I don’t usually get too upset about that. It’s still the acceptance of my peers that I crave. And I don’t like this about myself.
Then, just last week, I read this post by another artist. By the time I had finished the first sentence, it had all fallen into place for me. I suddenly realized that I’m not the only one who feels rejected. In fact, it’s very likely that all artists do. There’s a comfort in finding out that at least one of my neuroses is normal!
Now I just need to work on being the exception to this rule.
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CATEGORIES: - Philosophy - Featuring artists - Subjective -
(3) Comments / Commentaires: About the chip on my shoulder
I’ll tell them and I’ll send them to you! 
Gwenn, I empathize with your plight. Being forced into the same corner, again and again, and having to fight your way out every time would put a chip on anyone’s shoulder.
But I believe that’s part of your personal style, and I respect that strength in you. Don’t lose it—it keeps the bullies at bay.
nicholas...
Just remember, no matter how many times they call it “vanity art” they’re still calling it art.
--- -- - --- - ---- - - --- ----- -- -there was a time when all art was like that.
you’ve done art history right?
how much of the classic art are portraits?
probably a good percentage.
How do they think artists used to pay the bills centuries ago? they did portraits for their benefactors, that’s how they could afford to paint other things. even shakespeare had a benefactor or three. that’s how we got things like Romeo and Juliet. next time another “artist” gives you crap, tell them they’re forgetting their artistic heritage.
that or send them to me.
Gota Dien Gwennie
Nick