Jason Driskill

As I was graduating from college at Watkins College of Art & Design in Nashville TN, I found myself in the surprisingly pivotal position of helping a group of artists coordinate a series of one-night group shows called the Secret Show Series in some unused warehouse space above the little office I rented for my painting studio.  These shows were a graciously introduction to the fundamentals of a professional art practice, and being in the position of representing a group forced me to take initiative for things like promotion, documentation - things that I let slide for my own individual artwork.   Through the series I proved to myself that I was capable of designing a website, writing press releases, scheduling and installing artshows, and even coordinating a juried show from start to finish.  My own artwork fell in line as the Series demanded: each show provided a deadline and a reason to create new work.

I  was startled at how much I relied on my community to maintain productivity.  Friends and colleagues not only held me accountable to what I was doing, but they completed the dialogue that went into the ongoing creation of new works.  Although none of my work specifically referenced the artwork of my friends, their work helped me map out my understanding of my work, and how my how it functioned independently or as part of the community.  I was subconsciously making curatorial choices as I started simultaneously started a new piece and began coordinating a new show.  Since I knew roughly who else was going to be in a show and the nature of their work, it was easier to gauge what sort of voice I wanted to insert into the group.  Likewise all of the other artists involved in each show was aware of who else was involved - most of us had some sort of social relationship that extended beyond the shows - and I’m convinced that this had a profound influence over the artwork that we each made.

The success of these shows - the personal thrill and sense of purpose - convinced me that I wanted an MFA.   As everyone was headed in different personal directions (marriages, babies, grad schools, new jobs) we concluded the Series and I moved to San Francisco.  When you’re used to singing with a chorus it’s somewhat unnerving to suddenly hear your lone voice in an empty room.  Of course my MFA program had a “community” to join, but it was not my community - not trusted friends - and I was suddenly aware of how long it takes to invest in new relationships.  I’m slow to make new friends and prefer isolation over exerting myself into new groups.  I’m kind of a shut-in.

My point after all this rambling is this: my professional development is more likely to thrive if I’m engaged in a group of like-minded people with whom I share a personal connection. Whether these people are my trusted friends in Nashville or a new group of people that I have not yet met, it’s becoming clear that as graduation approaches I need to find contemporaries that want to team up and conquer something.  Call me a communist, but experience has taught me that the success of a group is exponentially greater than the success of an individual.

All this seems ironic considering that my work is so self-reflective.  I wonder… by neglecting to include a social landscape in my work, what am I saying (or refusing to say) about my relationship with others?