More Things Change

Despite the ubiquitous presence of computers at my library workplace, I still use an IBM typewriter occasionally in my department. It’s a brute of a machine: cumbersome, heavy, full of tempermental, sticky keys. But I enjoy wheeling it out like some museum relic on its metal tray table, for shelf labels that cannot be created by another means. The archaic sound of striking keys and ringing page returns is so rare, other staff come over to investigate and become nostalgic, like they just saw an old, persnickety friend. I think of other things that have or will be “phased out” in my lifetime. The rotary dial succeeded by touch tone. Diminished postal service due to email, fax and Skype. Inaccurate, wall mounted clocks discontinued because time is displayed on enough alternatives like computers, cell phones and wrist watches. And for those of us who work with books, the accelerated switch from hard copy to online, electronic versions. In fact, online everything from banking to social media.

Major changes have also occurred for artists, especially in the way work is now promoted and accessible. The shift from slide submissions to digital images. Postcard announcements reduced by e-vites. The rise of artists’ websites. And while we have always organized into groups and collectives for exhibition opportunities when traditional venues are limited or unavailable– I wonder about the future of the gallery as an institution because of what is currently happening to the book. Other than art supplies which are substantial to begin with– the computer, digital camera and website became the three “new” items I had to invest in the most. I acquired all of these together about 5 years ago. The patient Dell support technician who assisted me with laptop setup over the phone, suggested at the end of our exhausting session, that I read “Computers for Dummies”. (Fortunately, I knew that was an actual book title and not an ungracious comment). As for the camera, it took months to discover everything that was inside it and how to use what I needed. What’s your beside reading these days? friends asked. My reply: “The Nikon D-40 User’s Manual.” I still quiver every time work needs to be filmed or images burned onto a CD because, well, I’ve kinda destroyed or sent out blank discs, unsafely pulled out a USB stick, neglected to turn off the camera once and forget every time where I’m suppose to diddle with exposure compensation formerly known as bracketing. And just when things finally get sorted out, improvements and updates arrive to unsettle what seems only recently learned. The computer is established in most peoples’ lives, artists included. Its omnipresence increases daily whether the art we do is nature or figure based, abstract, textile or photographic etc. For some, it is an integral, vital part of their practice, responsible for functions like preparatory design or genuine work such as vector graphics. The potential to overwhelm, intimidate is always an issue for those with limited tech skills, especially when changes occur that do require attention if we want to continue professionally in our field. Of course this could all be resolved by hiring others to document the work and manage our websites. Classes are available; the internet itself contains resource guides on programs and equipment.

The digital camera and photo editing software eliminated the need to pay someone else for filming and film costs. The entire process of documenting work is now free. No need also, to amass a number of paintings before arranging photo sessions; work is filmed anytime, at leisure. Submission procedures are easier and cheaper as well, due to both email entries and the price of CD’s and postage compared to slide packages in the past. Unlike slides, one image can be reproduced or replaced promptly should damage or loss occur. Gallery websites enable artists to assess more clearly than before, whether a venue is appropriate for their work, if it welcomes unsolicited submissions, and if so– submission details. All this available information saves time and the anxiety of contact by phone or in person. Galleries themselves are better able to determine their interest in an artist also by accessing samples of their work online. Artists who have their own websites enjoy opportunities of exposure to their work– even while they sleep! And by doing little other than leaving their site up. This provides more self-sufficiency for artists without galleries or dealers, and for those who wish to rely less on them. Already, some question the future need of a middlemen, the dealer or agent– when technology now allows artists greater independence.

So far, the changes mentioned mostly concern art business– that process which facilitates the entry of work into the world. Although I have perused whole exhibitions online, I am relieved that art still needs to be seen in person in order to be fully appreciated; few buyers or afficionados would part with cash until they did so. Digital images can look spectacular, but the final verdict lies in that personal meeting when the eye truly beholds the real thing. In that respect, hopefully we will always need places to display actual work. Galleries as we know them, may undergo transitions, uniting to become commercial collectives perhaps– shared tenants of one space to lower costs. If we consider the book, there remains the intimacy of holding one in the hands, the smell of ink and paper, the rustle of pages– tactile, sensory pleasures the convenience of electronic or online options lack. Art-oriented software does exists. It imitates traditional techniques and media: oil, pastel, watercolor, ink, drawing, painting and others. What does that bode for artists? Will hand and eye coordination eventually become obsolete for creating art in the future? Or will it be equally valid and (more?) effective– just in context with different tools? I don’t know. Already, cursive handwriting in some schools is reportedly on the decline; students are too habituated by the keyboard. There are many ways to be an artist but it’s poignant to think of reactions to a book or handcrafted painting in the same way my co-workers responded to the typewriter.