Demarcated Working Period 2 frames my life/art from August 2016 through August 2018. It was here that I began to bring the messy elements together and lay the foundation for a topological, self-portrait narrative. I have often said these were the most difficult years of my life. It was a stream of stresses, trials, and pains that I tried to keep separate from the things I was making. Eventually I realized that every bit of an artist’s life is in the art. This may seem elementary to many readers but I was still coming from a background that emphasized a mechanical objectivity - an attitude of strictly separating the researcher from the research.
In late summer 2017 I began to live in my studio. All my actions and art seemed to blur. I might make a drawing or edit photos in this space but I also might wake up and change clothes there as well. Practicing guitar overlapped with painting; brushing my teeth mixed with performance. I was forced to confront a problem. If everything I do creates this messy mass, this amalgam of actions and products, then how do I critique it? Is every part of my entire life hung up and exposed to criticism?
This was the point that I began to fully embrace impurity, messiness, spelling errors, anti-art-hero-genius, unarchival processes, mixing, blending, layering, distorting, unprofitable art, and the resistance of unsustainable art. However, this forced me to come face to face with my own hypocrisy. I still live unsustainably, I need to advertise and market myself, I would love my work to be seen and purchased by as many people as possible. I need money and computers to survive.
8 Artists in my Studio
Time-based installation with projected video, found internet images of the invited artists, chromakey green floor, amplifier, cell phone, dslr camera, headphones, audio mixer, speakers, microphone, shared google doc page with questions and thoughts, chalk on door, the artist’s living space behind a self-built wall, live stream of artist, emails, and the polite request that shoes be removed before entering the space.
Parking Lots that have Sustained Me
Social Media Suicide
I Am the Real Ryan Meyer