The Art of Not Sharing
An artist choosing to keep work private.
I was recently reading up on the Swedish artist Hilma af Klimt (1862-1944) after referencing her work in a recent poem and then finding out more about her art and influences in the book “The Story of Art Without Men” by Katy Hessel. Her most beloved work today was her most spiritual and personal work. And I was astonished to find that this work we most associate with her (as the earliest explorations in abstract art - before Kandinsky, Mondrian, or other early 20th century artists) is work she herself kept private, requesting that they not be shown until twenty years after her death. She knew the world wasn’t yet ready for her abstract work even as she continued a separate landscape and portrait artist career.
Crossing Over, pictured above, is one of my most personal and spiritual pieces. And while I didn’t hide this work away, (selling the original to a collector in Florida) its symbolism and meaning continues to be unspoken - quietly held close to my heart.
In today’s world, it’s hard to imagine holding your art so close to your heart. It seems every thought, image, and process is continuously shared online (myself included) and at such a record-breaking pace that it’s even harder not to feel overwhelmed to the point of frustrated disillusionment when viewing it all. Of course, there are many instances throughout history of artists who did not receive recognition for their work in their own time (such as, most famously, Vincent Van Gogh); and artists who work under a pseudonym or in secret (such as Banksy). I’ve certainly heard of writers with unseen work published after their death (such as Emily Dickenson’s poetry). And more recently, the astonishing collection of 100,000 photographic images captured by Vivian Maier that were discovered after being sold off at a thrift house toward the end of her life to later be collected, and shared by John Maloof in the 2013 film “Finding Vivian Maier”.
Personally, I find it hard to imagine. When I’m creating my art I get very excited about a newly finished piece. I want nothing more than to share what I made and see the reactions. I am gratified by a painting well received. I am confused and disheartened by an art piece received with little regard. (Both of these reactions probably being not only unhealthy but ill-advised, and worth their own examination.)
But what qualities pull a viewer closer to a work of art? What pushes people away? In thinking of Hilma af Klint, I begin to reshape my viewpoint. Should I only create work based on how it is to be received? If I separate my work from the expectations of what I think it should be today, what possibilities do I open myself to? Can I dedicate myself to art that has no home? That has no audience? That possibly has no future?
Artwork is perceived relative to time. I can not control these perceptions - whether currently or in the future. I can only create the art that is most meaningful to me (or, as was in the case of Hilma, in conjunction with art that is made for public consumption).
And then I have a choice.
Not everything must be shared.
Not everything needs to be seen… at least not in this timeline.
Follow your heart and make your art… even if the world isn’t ready for it - Yet.
Just a little reminder this week - to myself and anyone else who needs to hear it. Sometimes it’s hard to focus on those internal guideposts in the process of artmaking instead of an online world of social media madness and a deluge of constant imagery. Remember the inspiration that comes from within and savor it, for it is yours and yours alone. And then you can choose what to do with it.
Take care of yourselves,
~ Jennifer
Please note - WE HAVE A WINNER from last week’s Artist Note, “Rambling Considerations” - and a copy of the book “The Story of Art Without Men” by Katy Hessel will the going to “gela”. Thank you for commenting on last week’s Substack post!
Also, note - a change in the publishing schedule for “An Artist’s Notes”. I will continue to post weekly, with shorter informal “notes” (such as above) twice a month alternating with longer articles that will include in-depth resources and interesting art happenings - at least until such a time I decide to add an optional subscription fee and can afford to spend more time writing longer pieces (or I sell so much art that I can justify the time that way - you never know.) Thank you for your continued support and for reading, subscribing, and sharing!