In the days and weeks since our last conversation about his art, Dudley Charles and I continued our periodic chats. We talked about my art practice which is on a hiatus brought on by the demands of work and the unwelcoming environment for the art I do.
For those readers unfamiliar with my art practice, my work is grounded in a contemporary spirit of social activism and ephemerality. My work often exists in fragments in my house and will be complete when installed in an exhibition space. Therefore, the completed work exists for the duration of the exhibition, and then it is fragmented once again, wrapped, and stored in boxes until a moment for assembling and display emerges.
My work also embraces themes atypical to art in Guyana and materials that are not customary and which have admittedly confounded some viewers. So, our chats are good because Dudley respects my approaches and ideas. Furthermore, our chats are often good for the low simmering and percolating energies to make art. But while Dudley is able to capitalise on this, I am yet to take an acrylic-laden brush to canvas paper. I watch the long-abandoned beginnings of paintings that are uncertain of themselves and console myself that I am doing as I should – reading, writing, and chatting with artists whose work I admire so the work evolves and does not stagnate. Most importantly, I console myself that I am earning so that I can be free to paint as I wish rather than as the market demands.
But what market am I consoling myself about? The art market in Guyana is a thing I have little to no knowledge of. Who buys art in Guyana? And what art gets bought in Guyana? Are there individuals who survive on their art only? I confess I have no clue about any of these questions. Years ago, I was able to say yes to an extent so-and-so does and is subsidised by his family or so-and-so does and is subsidised by long-time patrons. But person one has a full-time teaching job now and person two has passed into the realm of the great ancestors. With no commercial art galleries, what do artists do? How do artists sell work in Guyana? (Hadfield Foundation closed in 2007 and was the only independent art gallery at the time.)
As I write this column, it is the last day of December 2022; a time for parties for some and for others, a time of reflection. It is also a time for setting goals and creating new vision boards. I am the reflective sort. And with oodles of time off from work in the weeks ahead, my art materials are calling as loudly as the stack of books I collected for when I have time to read them. But instead of setting goals to make art – it is still percolating in my mind. I am thinking about the recent developments in the local art community. I am thinking of meetings called, of which only certain artists are made aware and I wonder why this is. I lament that the situation for art in Guyana has not gotten any better. So that worthy talents are overlooked for the usual artists or the connected artists.
I don’t lament for myself because I decided years ago that I could not survive with the nepotism so I extricated myself from the local market. I stopped making art to sell. I stopped making art that could be easily displayed in living rooms and offices. My thinking was if I have nothing to
sell, I could not be overlooked by the gatekeeper when expatriates or visiting Guyanese were looking to buy work. I would feel no sense of being cast aside when the handful of potential art buyers were referred to the usual handful of artists. No. I don’t lament for myself at all because I will continue to make art that embraces the materiality and intellectual impetus of my past work. I will continue to deliberately make work that is not easily collected and not easily conserved. No. My worry has been, and colleagues and friends in the community know this, that support is given to a select few who are hand-picked at the expense of very many talented artists who need to be supported for their own growth and development.
Years ago, I heard of a local business person complaining that local artists want too much for their work. Buying local art at prices comparable to that of work of similar calibre in the US should not be scoffed at. Paints cost money. Canvases cost money. Art materials cost money. That purchase is an investment whether or not the painting appreciates in value with time. That purchase is akin to fuel in a depleting car tank.
I remember a friend and artist complaining that established artists should not compete with younger artists. I didn’t understand her argument then. With time, however, I came to understand her point. Because of the strength of their work and/or the clout of their name, the established artist will often command the win whether it is a literal win in a competition, selection for an opportunity, or the purchase of their work. We need some spaces for younger artists and artists not yet established only.
Weeks ago, I heard of a meeting for sculptors with a senior official. I wonder how the artists who attended that meeting were selected. Young and not-so-young but nonetheless talented sculptors were not aware. I wonder with all that is ailing the local art community, what will be its fate in 2023.
Akima McPherson is a multimedia artist, art historian, and educator
