Is It Possible to Stop Being an Artist? An Art Therapist's Reaction to "A Disposable Commodity, Indeed"

As an art therapist, I was deeply impacted by the N.Y. Times' Ken Johnson's piece, “A Disposable Commodity, Indeed” about an exhibit at MoMa PS1 ‘Bob and Roberta Smith: Art Amnesty'.  The article and exhibit elicit so many questions regarding how we define who is an artist, what it means to be successful in that field, how we relate to physical pieces of art.

In the field of art therapy, the thought of discarding an art therapy patient’s work, whether it be a doodle or a finished work, is inconceivable. It is also unethical and just not good therapy; patient artwork has value and is an extension of the patient and the therapeutic relationship. It is also technically part of their “medical record”. I always talk to patients about what to do with the work that is created in our art therapy sessions and it often elicits meaningful conversations about how they view their work and themselves.

The typical practicing artist, novice or otherwise, has the potential to create a massive body of work. The act of art-making serves as a jumping off point and can lead the artist to a new, more fully completed thought. The more artwork you create, presumably, the more internal places you will go. Art making is also valuable and cathartic as an affirmative act and sometimes is more valuable than the physical piece that is created. Because of this, artists are left with, well, a lot of stuff.

A public space to let go of art and have it witnessed by thousands as a final hurrah is exciting and feels like a compelling, community-based answer to the question of, I have all of this art, it’s not in a museum or on a wall, now what?  The main intention of Mr. Smith’s piece is a bit different and the question he is asking for artists seems to be, I have been pursuing this career and have not had the success I wanted, now what? He seeks to highlight the vast majority of artists who never realize their dreams and to satirize what the art world decides to assign value to. This is seen particularly by three pledges that artists who are discarding their work can choose from: “I never want to see this artwork again”, “I promise to never make art again”, and “I am no longer an artist”. Yet I struggle to connect to that sentiment and find it challenging to imagine ceasing to create art and no longer considering myself an artist. Furthermore, in a sad irony, Johnson comments on the aesthetic value of the current pieces on display in saying, “so far, little of what’s on display is interesting”, and he makes a value judgment on the collection as a whole. If this is not a space for an unprejudiced celebration of all types of artwork then what is? And where should artwork go when it has served its purpose? If only there was a big art studio in the sky.

I have my art holed away in all sorts of places in my apartment like a magpie. Living in the NYC area would be hard enough with out a passion that takes up a great deal of space.  I have a few very well meaning portfolio folders and Tupperwares but my artwork has overflowed into other spaces- the closet, under the bed. Every time I move apartments, I force myself to take inventory of my art and revisit past projects. I am very emotionally attached to a lot of my work but find it helpful to photograph and discard what I feel ready to get rid of.

I also have a somewhat open and forgiving concept of what makes someone an artist and find this definition to be very subjective. If I have weeks or months where I create more or less artwork, I do not revise that at the core of who I am is an artist. “Art Amnesty” challenges the art world and forces the viewer to consider what makes someone an artist and if it is possible to truly cut off your artist self. The exhibit is a useful space for folks to express frustration, exacerbation, and get some recognition, even just for a moment.