How many drafts have you started and tossed out?  

How long have you stared at a blank sheet of paper?  

How many times have you gotten tangled up in your own web of words?  

(Do you even have a web of words?) 

What other things have you managed to get done in order to avoid writing your artist statement? 

Maybe it would help if you thought about an artist statement as a bridge between two worlds: your inner landscape and the outer world you interact with.  

A bridge between your personal experience making art and the people viewing your art. 

If you are not used to connecting the outer world and your inner world in a conscious, attentive manner, it can sometimes feel pretty uncomfortable. If that is true for you, a good place to start is with is just noting the discomfort, maybe asking yourself What, exactly feels so uncomfortable?” 

Is the discomfort about having to deal with the unfamiliar? Is it a concern about how you write? Is it a worry that you don’t have anything worthwhile to say? Is it anxiety over what you might say that will turn your views off? 

When you can specifically name the discomfort, instead of brushing it away (or worse, falling prey to its mandate of Don’t do it!) For many artists, it’s just discomfort with the unfamiliar.  

When you can notice the discomfort and continue anyway, then you can avoid the discomfort dead end. Think about how many times you’ve been working on a piece when you arrive at a place where you are not sure what’s next. 

Imagine if, every time this happened, you stopped working. You don’t stop working because, as an artist, you know uncertainty, doubt, and the unfamiliar are part of your creative process. 

So, isn’t it interesting to think about where the unfamiliar stops you anywhere else in your life? 

Here’s An Artist Statement Tale Of Two Stories 

#1: The Gallery That Wasn’t 

Once upon a time an artist contacted me because he had a gallery in SoHo who wanted to show his work. But, they needed an artist statement. By the time he got in touch with me, a year had passed since this gallery’s request. The outcome? He was still not showing in that gallery. Why? Because he had not written the artist statement they needed. 

#2: Sale. Sale. Sale. 

Another artist asked me for help in writing her first statement, which we did. In our process, she kept noticing where she was tempted to hide her more vulnerable, personal self—the one who creates art—behind aloof words and spiritless sentences. Imagine her surprise, after her more personal, completed statement was put in a show, when a collector told her that the artist statement was what convinced her to buy three pieces.  

 Now, it’s true that an artist statement isn’t going to take the place of good artwork. This artist’s work had already called out to this collector; and it’s also clear that layering her artist statement alongside the artwork sealed the deal—not one, mind you, but three. 

I assure you, the artist statement is what I call “an indispensable grain of sand in your artist’s shoe”—small in scope; mighty in impact. It demands your attention with good reason. 

Your Twin Powers: Art + Words 

We are creatures of language. Language owns us long before we make meaningful marks. Without language, we cannot name or understand our world, internally or externally.  

So why artists persist in suggesting, or outright declaring, that their artwork “speaks for itself” is confounding.  

Yes, visual language is powerful, compelling, has the ability to imply story, emotion, and meaning making. What it cannot do is “tell” us anything personal about the artist. Every piece of artwork, while it is from an artist and definitely implies a certain something about the artist, this implication is shrouded in the indirect effects: of color, shape, placement, relationship of marks, evocative imagery, and so on. 

We can walk away musing, transformed, confused… but we cannot walk away with a deeper understanding of the artist behind the work; or the work in relationship to the artist’s experience while making it. 

In our human need for multiple levels of communication, the visual world—though mesmerizing, or disturbing, or profoundly moving—does not replace, displace or remove our need for language.  

Words may feel inadequate, more off than on, less intimate than an image; but words are persistently there in our heads, coming out of our mouths, inching their way across paper or the monitor screen. Whatever misgivings we may have, words are there all the same, and all the time.  

It serves artists well to learn to use words to their advantage. 

The Language Paradox 

I have a theory I’ve talked about many times. I call it the “public-private paradox of language.”  

When we come into the world, language is one way that we orient ourselves. Children naturally begin to speak. They speak the language of the culture that they are in. It’s as natural as breathing, as learning to roll over, then crawl, and then walk.  

In the beginning, language is private. It is ours; we own it. It sits and lives in our bones. 

Then something starts to change. The language that we are so enmeshed with, that is so much a part of who we understand ourselves to be as we start to move in the world, becomes more public.  

It can start with caretakers, parents, even siblings who insist: say it this way, don’t say that, no, it’s (fill in the blank). When we start school, the change is irrevocably cemented. All of a sudden our private, deeply personal language becomes regulated by other people telling us when we can say what. Our private language enters a fierce arena where it becomes controlled by those holding positions of authority.  

And so, the public-private paradox of language begins its tug of war inside of us. 

Flash forward.  

Now we are adults working with something as private, intimate, and deep as our art, and we are going to put words to it? Hmm, I don’t think so.  

Having to write an artist statement can yank us back to early, early  memories when language was taken from us in a very basic kind of way. The good news is that we can learn how to reframe this and work around it. 

Why Artist Statements Get a Bad Rap 

I don’t know about you, but for me, I find that most of them are simply badly written. 

And they are badly written for one of several reasons.  

Either the artist doesn’t understand the reasons for writing their artist statement, and so tries to explain things out of their viewers’ cognitive reach; or the artist postures, telling us about the art and why it’s so great. 

Sometimes, artists try to be clever, and end up confusing or just annoying us. Other times, the sincerity is there, but the content is not. 

A lot of this is simply because no one has actually defined an artist statement or told you it’s IRL purpose. 

I find it easiest to start with what an artist statement is not, before saying what it is. 

So, Let’s Clear Up Some Misconceptions 

First, an artist statement is not a bio.  

The tricky part, here, is that your artist statement might have some of the same elements as your bio. For example, the fact that you watched your father turn a lathe impacts why you create burl vases now. This may be important enough to be a key piece of an artist statement, or it may not. But the entire artist statement will not be a biographical statement.  

The key is weaving only a few, specific biographical facts into your artist statement that relate to why, how, and what you create. 

An artist statement is also not a critique.  

You are not asked to comment about your art, what it means, what it is, good or bad. Of course you’re always going to say it’s good, right?  

But by critique, I’m talking about any language that implies a value system, which we’ll leave up to our viewers and the art critics. “Beautiful,” “inspiring,” “soulful,” “meaningful”—these are all terms I have seen artists drop into their artist statements.   

And you don’t want to do this for one, critical reason.  

Judging what they are seeing is the job of your viewer, your collector, and your audience… not you.  

They are going to look at your art and say, “Oh my, that is so beautiful it takes my breath away.”  

When you do this for them, when you jump in to tell them what their experience is going to be, you cut them off from connecting with your work. So it is critical that you stay away from value-laden language. 

Besides sounding self-serving, these comments are irrelevant to the core purpose of your artist statement: to give your viewers a peek behind your process, a nod to why and how you do what you do. 

The Authority of Personal Story In Your Artist Statement 

No artist statement worth its salt will try to speak for your art, because it is not about your art per se; it’s about your relationship to your art.  

And that is a completely different story, yes? One that your collectors are dying to hear.  

There are two things you might want to understand:  

1. What might be obvious to you in what you are doing, is not necessarily obvious to anyone else.
2. Everyone loves a personal touch. They want to rub shoulders with the artist, they want to get a peek behind the canvas, or the marble, or the choreography. Everyone. 

We’re hard-wired for story. We thirst for story. When you know something about another person, you establish connection, and when you establish connection you build trust.  

So you could say that an artist statement is about building trust. And when someone sees your work, and also has a sense of trust, they are more confident about buying. As they also say, we don’t like to be sold to, but we love to buy. 

And, as they also say, trust is not given, it’s earned. The artist statement earns a viewer’s trust, a critical step before buying your artwork. 

How Gender Influences Your Artist Statement 

A convincing artist statement oozes with confident clarity based on nitty-gritty details. But, sometimes, there are a few mental landmines we need to clear out. 

Women can worry about overstating their abilities, and with good reason. When a woman speaks up about what she’s good at, the culture calls it boasting. When a man speaks up, the culture calls it confidence.  

I worry for the women who don’t speak about their talent because, at the heart of it, they don’t truly believe in their abilities in the first place. In general, men don’t often hesitate because they seem graced by a culture that validates their right to be good at something. This doesn’t mean men don’t have issues with believing in themselves; they just aren’t usually concerned that if they believe in themselves it means they are stepping on someone else’s toes. 

Women and men need to learn that we are all allowed to toot our own horns. We can create authentic hype. God will not strike us down with lightning, nor will we be visited for seven years by locusts, boils, or the plague.  

This is reserved for those who toot their horns and step on the gas at the same time, which is where I think tooting our horns got such a distasteful reputation in the first place. 

The Simplicity of Your Artist Statement 

An artist statement is personal. It’s as personal as your art. It’s also honest. In the same way your art reflects a true expression of your being, your artist statement needs to speak to the authentic you at work. When it’s done well, the two support each other. 

In Part 2 of this series, we’ll explore practical techniques for capturing your authentic voice and crafting a statement that truly represents you and your work. We’ll dive into specific exercises and examples that will help you write an artist statement that connects deeply with your audience while staying true to your artistic vision. 

This book—Writing The Artist Statement: Revealing the True Spirit Of Your Work—will push start the process of writing an earnest and meaningful artist statement. 

It is motivating, reassuring and provides an easy workable approach that removes the barriers to writing your statement. 

Complete the exercises and your finished statement will connec the artist to the artwork in a way that others will enjoy and understand.  

This book is a great addition to any artist’s reference library. 

~ R. H. McMurray, ex-president of the Federation Of Canadian Artists 

 

 

 

When you have your professional act together, and you are producing your best artwork, you stand out from the fast lane of competition.  

A sophisticated, compelling artist statement gives you an edge that marks you as more professional than an artist who ignores this critical element in their portfolio. 

Here are three, curable mistakes, which artists repeat so often that it plays a major role in tainting the credibility of even a viable, exciting artist statement.  

Read and heed… 

Most Common Artist Statement Mistake #1: Confusing an artist statement with a critique, a resume, or a bio. 

A resume is not an artist statement because a resume is a list, by date, of all the pertinent, professional events in your art life. These events help convince people that you are an artist worth collecting.  

The list, with items that directly relate to your art, includes: education, awards, exhibits, publications, collectors, grants, gallery representation, etc.  

Never confuse a resume with an artist statement. A resume is informative, an artist statement inventive. A resume is dry; an artist statement is juicy.  

Unlike the artist statement, a resume will not illuminate your work. It will not get into your viewer’s head and stay there. It will not add anything of experience to the viewer looking at a piece of your work.  

A resume allows your work to be properly filed. An artist statement allows your work to be extra-remembered because now you’ve tapped into two major area of your viewer’s brain: visual language and word language. Together, these two languages create a sticky factor that’s hard to unstick. 

When done well, your artist statement excites our human thirst for story in a few short paragraphs. 

A critique is not an artist statement because a critique evaluates your artwork. An artist statement illuminates your artwork, expands the experience of your artwork. 

A critique is about likes and dislikes, comparisons and labels, how your work does, or does not, fit into a particular art scene/theory. A critique distinctly reflects the “opinions” of others as opposed to the “personal reflections” of you, the artist. 

A critique often tries to speak for the artist, and this industry standard is one of the reasons I strongly believe you must write your own artist statement.  

Only you can speak to your experience of a piece, of a series, of the art-making itself. Only you, the artist, has the inside scoop.  

When you willingly give this critical piece of your creative work away to critics, you not only cheat yourself of the opportunity to weigh in on your work, you cheat your viewers of your unique perspective.  

A bio is also not an artist statement because a bio summarizes the areas of your personal history that have impacted your art.  

What are the major “moments” in your artistic journey? How has your artwork influenced your life, and vice versa? What, and who, orbits around your art world?  

A bio is not a list like a resume. It is more akin to the three paragraphs of prose you find in an artist statement. 

The tricky part is that your artist statement may include relevant biographical tidbits, but it is not, in its entirety, a bio. 

I recommend you write your artist statement before you write your bio. That way, when you write your bio, you can use different bits of your ArtLife history so these two portfolio elements remain distinct from each other. 

An artist statement is not a resume, critique or bio because it alone reveals the true spirit of your relationship to your artwork. This is its powerful secret. It creates an emotional bridge between the person who views a work of art and the artist who did the work. At its best, an artist statement celebrates your work by creating a deeper connection between art, artist, and audience. It holds the potential to intensify the emotional and intellectual ties already established by the power or beauty or surprise of the artwork itself. 

Most Common Artist Statement Mistake #2: 

Using the third person (Jane Doe/John Smith/Your Name) 

• This happens most often when artists make these three mistaken assumptions: Thinking that their statements need evaluative comments (Mary /Jack Ripple’s sculpture excels in the lost wax technique…) 

• Thinking that their work needs authoritative commentary (Ryan Caplan’s watercolors open up a whole new direction for…) 

• Thinking that no one will take them seriously if they write about their own work. (Stashing away a little “i,” so it can be ready to pull down the more powerful and assertive big “I,” sends the wrong message: that this artist lacks confidence in the authentic power of personal truth.) 

Artists, who use third person, simply don’t understand how much the viewer craves a peek behind their canvasses.  

When you write about the artist’s process — your relationship to your work — first person is the most direct, honest way to do it.  

First person (I) gives an artist statement the authenticity and sincerity it deserves.  

Authenticity, or the ability to speak to the true essence of a thing, actually creates a more powerful aura of authority than using the third person. For, after all, who better to speak about an artist’s work than the artist herself? 

Most Common Artist Statement Mistake #3: 

Using negative or put-down statements about artist statements, yourself or your art 

If there is one mistake that hoists up a “RunForYourLive,” red flag for collectors and art viewers, this is it.  

Can I tell you how many times I have seen a variety of:  

“Now, I don’t even like artist statements, but…” or… 

 “I think writing an artist statement is useless, but here goes…” or … 

 “My work speaks for itself, but since I have to write this…”  

And… 

“I hope my work xxxx” 

“I’m trying to xxxx” 

“Eventually, I’ll get there…” 

These negative or subtly dismissive messages create an instant, knee-jerk response in a reader, who instinctively pulls away. It’s like a super charged, anti-magnet. 

The negative and dismissive messages create a force field of heavy energy for readers, who feel as if they’ll get sucked in if they get too close.  

Negative commentary also spills onto the artwork itself. It sends a strong, subliminal message that, since a statement is about the relationship between artist and artwork, the artist might not like their work any better.  

Worse, it sounds immature; not intellectually casual, wryly sophisticated, or thought provoking – which, I suspect, is what the artist who writes this way imagines. 

The contempt and ambivalence in put-down statements overshadows anything else an artist wants to get across. “Why then,” we wonder, “are you bothering?”  

In spite of misgivings, you bother because there is a nagging feeling that an artist statement is important. The problem is not the artist statement itself, but a confusion over what an artist statement is and what it accomplishes. 

TIP: Every time you are tempted to use these three letters in your artist statement — b u t – you have just entered the red flag zone. Time to find out if one of your artist *fears is curled up behind your “I’m-a-cool- artist” door, doing what fears do best: leading you down the wrong path with great confidence. 

When you use an artist statement to speak to the deepest truth about your art, even if that truth is sparse and obvious to you, its very authenticity resonates and pulls the reader closer to your work, closer to the heart of the art experience you are creating. 

*fear 

I’ve outlined the 7 Dragons of Fear in the third edition of the original book on artist statements: Writing The Artist Statement: Revealing the True Spirit of Your Work. 

A fear only works when it isn’t named. Once you understand the false premise behind any fear, it’s fearsomeness shrinks to a grain of sand. And yes, these 7 fears affect how (or whether you will or will not write) an artist statement. They also show up in other areas of  our life. 

This book will push start the process of writing an earnest and meaningful artist statement. 

It is motivating, reassuring and provides an easy workable approach that removes the barriers to writing your statement. 

Complete the exercises and your finished statement will connect the artist to the artwork in a way that others will enjoy and understand.  

This book is a great addition to any artist’s reference library. 

~ R. H. McMurray, ex-president of the Federation Of Canadian Artists 

There are even more critical mistakes that you can make on your artist statement. Each one spells “Amateur!” to potential galleries and exhibition spaces.  

Why take the chance?  

Your work deserves an artist statement that gives you the professional edge you need…read more. 

 

P.S. Before presenting your artist statement, you have to write it. 

No worries, I developed an easy process streamlined for artists.  

Follow the guidelines in my definitive book on artist statements: Writing The Artist Statement: Revealing The True Spirit of Your Work — one easy chapter at a time. 

       Write it once, and you’ll have a system in place as your artwork evolves. 

 

HOW TO WRITE AN ARTIST STATEMENT: STEP ONE 

Self-promotion vs. Connection 

For too long, self-promotion has been chained to marketing. But when you fully grok that your success depends upon how you connect, one human to another, the self-promotion chains fall away. 

So, how does that connection work? 

An effective artist statement creates a personal connection between the artist, the artwork, and the audience because it stimulates our human thirst for “story.”  

Story, in turn, triggers longer memory storage, and increases the sticky factor because art with an artist statement immerses your viewer in two languages: visual (the art) and linguistic (the words you choose). 

For people who see what you do, a well-written statement keeps your name in front of them even longer.  

Name recognition, or branding, is nothing more than remembering—in the virtual storm of constant stimulation drowning our 21st Century lives—what has struck a deep chord within us. 

This means you need to … 

Forget jargon.  

Forget academic-sounding gobbledygook. 

Forget hiding behind technical details.  

Forget lists of features. 

Get personal.  

Be vulnerable.  

Be real. 

The secret lies in wrapping your brain, and heart, around the way an artist statement expands the bridge of connection between your art and your audience. 

HOW TO WRITE AN ARTIST STATEMENT: STEP TWO 

Recognize the Resistance Roadblock (R&R) 

First, remember that as an artist you come with a solid dose of creative resilience. I’m reminding you of this because writing about yourself can be daunting.  

And while some people love to write, and some people don’t, what both have in common is a reluctance to write about themselves.  

It feels self-serving.  

It feels like unwarranted boasting.  

It feels as if you’re trying to get away with something.  

It feels icky. 

And when you are feeling this particular brand of feels, that’s when you will want to hide behind jargon, academic-sounding gobbledygook and technical details because these give you a cushion of self-protection against what you must do: Get personal. Be vulnerable. Be real. 

Oh, my. 

When you need for an artist statement, up pops the inevitable: The I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-myself Reluctance Roadblock (R&R) 

It’s built into the process.  

So, what do you do about that? 

Muddle through? 

Hire someone else to write it? 

Find something else to do—anything? 

No, you fortify yourself with good old information.  

You define it.  

Because if you don’t know what an artist statement really is, you can’t begin to write an effective one. And if it isn’t effective, then what’s the point? 

Most artist statement definitions are too general to be useful. They fail to tell you first, what your artist statement is supposed to do for the person reading it, for you the artist writing it, and how these work together.   

Here’s my definition that’s stood the test of time since it came out in 2002. Yup! 2002. Before then, and since then, no one had bothered to actually analyze artist statements. It was just this thing artists were asked for in their portfolios, and you had to cobble it together as best you could. 

Which is what led to the very real impression that artist statements are useless. 

Because, in the beginning, a lot of them were based on language that had nothing to do with connecting human to human. Artists felt they had to defend and explain their work, which annoyed the artists and baffled, or worse, turned off their readers. 

Here’s my straightforward definition: 

====================================================================== 

An artist statement is a written, personal reflection on your insights about your relationship to what, how, and why you do what you do—from your perspective as the artist-creator. 

====================================================================== 

You have permission to reveal as much, or as little, as feels comfortable keeping in my mind that your viewer sees you, the artist, as a kind of magician. They don’t want to be told what to see. They don’t want to spoon-fed an explanation. 

They want a peek behind the curtain into your life as an artist. A peek. A prelude. An excerpt. In short, they want to know what it feels like to be an artist. 

HOW TO WRITE AN ARTIST STATEMENT: STEP THREE 

The Nuts and Bolts of Your Artist Statement 

An ideal length for your artist statement is 3 paragraphs on each aspect, in this sequence: 

What you do. 

How you do it. 

Why you do it. 

Each artist statement paragraph is between 5 to 7 sentences, depending on what you want to say. 

The first two will be the easiest. 

It’s the “why you do it” that dashes ice cold water on the whole thing. 

Even though, I guarantee, you use words about and around your art all the time, most of this is so commonplace and instinctive you don’t even realize you are doing it. 

I’m always amused when I hear an artist being interviewed and someone is asking them questions about their work, how effortlessly they can talk about it. And quite often they will say something like “I really don’t have words for xxxx…” and then they will continue to say a whole bunch of words about “xxxx.”  

It’s as if the visual process of making art has seduced them into believing that visual language is so superior to linguistic language that it’s impossible to bridge this divide. 

But, as the interview continues with nothing but words, that conceit is destroyed, while the artist continues on oblivious to the Grand Canyon between what they say and what they are, in fact, doing. 

But, I digress…  

Here’s how you get around the why you do what you do roadblock: 

1. Write a first draft for the two artist statement paragraphs on what and how, so you practice writing and realize there are no monsters hiding under the bed.
2. Pick up an old fashioned, cheap spiral notebook, and any writing implement you like. 

I recommend staying away from note taking on your phone because, as hard as this is to understand, the physical activity of hand writing stimulates a different area of your brain that connects with the material you are going to want for your why. 

 a. Take this notebook wherever you work, take it to bed, take it when you travel around… because, in all of these cases you will inevitable find yourself thinking about your work. 

The intention is twofold: 1) Write at the top of your first page: Why Do I Do The Work I Do? You are priming your brain to pay attention. 2) Practice catching yourself thinking about your work and jot down enough keywords so can return later and know what it was.  

This will be especially challenging in your work/production space. When you forget, notice that you’ve forgotten. Be gentle with yourself, then ask the main question: Why do I do the work I do? And begin again. 

b. Practice this for at least 3 weeks. It will take a minute to habituate yourself to this exercise, but the payoff is huge! 

3. Find a buddy and let them interview you about your work. 

Between your notebook of artist-statement thoughts-made-conscious and the interview, you will have enough material to write your third and last paragraph. 

HOW TO WRITE AN ARTIST STATEMENT: STEP FOUR 

Patience, Patience, Patience… 

From Rough Draft to the Artist Statement Final Draft  

The best professional writer’s tip I can give you is this: write your first draft then put it away and out of mind for at least two weeks. 

After two weeks you can go through your artist statement first draft again. 

You can do this in one sitting, or take it slower and do it in several sessions. 

This time, read it out loud. You’ll instantly hit sentences or phrases that feel as if you just tripped over a tree root. These are where you go to work.  

Does a word need changing? Is the sentence too complicated? Is the thought something only you would understand?  

Writing is a process, a verb. Writing is alive, changing as you change. Writing does not lock you in. Don’t like a word? Erase it. 

If you want to use a program like Grammarly or ProWritingAid to check your punctuation or grammar, that’s fine. Just don’t let an AI program do the writing for you because AI ain’t you! 

Unless you are sophisticated with setting up AI prompts so it replicates your unique voice, AI has its own voice, which will come across subliminally no matter what. I know because I’ve played around and found that it writes with a kind of stiff quality. It can’t improvise or flex and bend easily. 

After you’re satisfied with grammar, spelling, and punctuation, notice the tone of your artist statement.  

Is it quiet and simple?  

Bold and brash? Sophisticated and elegant?  

Is it earthy and grounded?  

Ethereal and wispy?  

Is it wide and flowing?  

Or narrow and steep?   

Does this tone reflect the tone of your art work?  

Do you keep the same tone of voice throughout, or does it shift at some point?  

Is this shift jarring or smooth? 

If want to take your writing to the next level, try some of these writing techniques: 

• Replace general statements with specific details. “I like oil paints,” becomes, “I like the way oil paint smells, a bit forbidden, like sniffing glue. I like the wet look of it slipping off my brush and onto the canvas.” 

• Use as many of the senses as you can: sight, sound, smell, texture/touch, taste. These hook a reader by exciting primal areas of the imagination. 

• Try repetition: This goes to the heart, this goes to the spirit, this goes to the soul…. 

• Use variation on a pattern: of the people, for the people, by the people…

• Link the beginning of your artist statement to the end by repeating a phrase, a word, or a sentiment in the last paragraph that shows up in your first paragraph. 

HOW TO WRITE AN ARTIST STATEMENT: STEP FIVE 

Time To Test Out Your Artist Statement 

Find three people who you trust to be honest and kind. 

Give them your brand-new artist statement and ask for their honest response.

Because it’s hard for people to critique something without guidelines, offer them these.  

They can write their responses or talk to you, but the responses need to be in this order because a critique can be difficult to hear: 

1. Tell me what delighted you. 
2. Tell me if it flowed easily. 
3. Tell me what you think needs to be clearer. 
4. Tell me if you have a specific suggestion for a word, a phrase, a sentence, or even a paragraph.  

Then, implement any suggestion that truly resonates with you.  

You are the final arbiter of this artist statement, and like the artwork you do, only you can deeply know what feels authentic and true. 

 

P.S. Before presenting your artist statement, you have to write it. 

No worries, I developed an easy process streamlined for artists.  

Follow the guidelines in my definitive book on artist statements: Writing The Artist Statement: Revealing The True Spirit of Your Work — one easy chapter at a time. 

       Write it once, and you’ll have a system in place as your artwork evolves.