Looking Back
I’ve been revisiting old writing and came across this post that I shared on Linkedin back in 2022. It was written when I was stepping away from my role as Director of Rising Arts Agency in late 2021. It still feels pertinent and relevant today, so in light of the launch of my new website I thought I’d share it again in this space.
Portrait by Collin Moody
My name is Kamina and I’m an artist.
You wouldn’t believe how long it’s taken me to be able to write this statement with confidence (but still, if I’m totally honest, with a pinch of doubt). I’m known for my creative work empowering others: showcasing their work; creatively articulating issues; challenging the status quo. This isn’t generally seen as my practice but a producer/facilitator/enabler role that I play. Yet everything I have ever created as an artist has come out of conversation and collaboration of one sort or another.
We judge ourselves so harshly as artists, and are judged by others in terms of our track record - of exhibitions, sales of work, funding and commissions. The definitions are drawn for us and we impose these on ourselves. Yet surely there’s room to interpret the word ‘artist’ in as many different ways as there are creative responses in the world?
So, what defines ‘creative practice’?
How do I articulate my role as an artist and how do I avoid self-sabotage? For me creative practice is all about a process: noticing, questioning, thinking, talking, testing, making, unmaking and articulating. This is how I live much of my life, but it doesn’t always result in an object such as a photograph or an outcome such as an installation or exhibition. The mainstream narrative is that ‘real’ artists make work to show in galleries or public spaces. Yet if Jeremy Deller can make an artwork by re-enacting The Battle of Orgreave why can’t the work I have been immersed in – building and nurturing a community of articulate, questioning, diverse young artists that are changing the face of the sector in my city be deemed an artwork too?
If we acknowledge the cultural influences that surround us that we are constantly un/consciously absorbing and reflecting on, we are rarely the sole authors of any work. Conversation is key to developing and growing creative ideas and always being able to hold audience in mind. In this respect creative collaboration is everywhere but rarely acknowledged unless (or even if) the work is specifically co-created.
Do titles matter?
Why is it that so many people I think of as artists feel uncomfortable or find difficulty in claiming the title? Why do we have such high expectations around a role that is embedded in experimentation, self-expression and play? Is this a hurdle that is more strongly felt by those of a similar age to me? Shouldn’t we just accept that if we believe we are creatively making through our work, no matter what that might be, we can confidently call ourselves artists? But maybe it’s not that straightforward? We exist in a culture that is all about categorisation, putting people in boxes and attaching labels to them. Do these titles even matter? I’m guessing they do as I’m celebrating the fact that I can finally embody the title ‘artist’ no matter what anyone else might think.
And what about age?
There’s another layer to this. Age. That looming sense that, as a woman approaching my 60s, what people call me is irrelevant. The over-riding assumption is that, because I’m stepping away from my current role, I’ll be retiring soon, quietly receding into the background. That is SO not the case. I’ve never felt so relevant, empowered, energised and ready to embark on a new creative journey, one that might take me in any number of directions, both travelling solo and with others. Over the last few years of supporting young artists and creatives to find their voice I feel like I’ve been supported and encouraged by them to find my own. I now have more confidence in myself. I feel that having spent so much time on this planet I’ve seen a lot, learnt a lot, grown a lot and now have plenty to say and endless things I want to do. This means I have far less tolerance for what I see as injustices in this world.
Always perched quietly in the back of my mind as constant inspiration is Louise Bourgeois, mother, partner and artist. Her whole adult life was a creative journey but she was only recognised as an artist at the age of 70. For most of her adulthood her life was her practice, her home her gallery and her family her audience. Maybe titles didn’t matter to her, she just made the work regardless. For me she’s an inspiring reminder that it’s never too late – to create/recreate yourself, to find your voice, to be seen and heard, to turn heads, make people question and to inspire.
Just do it!
So, what might the tools for creative rediscovery look like and where might the stumbling blocks be? The classic Nike slogan “Just do it” still stands. Spend less time worrying about outcomes and immerse yourself in the process. Listen to yourself and hear what really matters to you. See where these experiences take you. Don’t be afraid of the personal – it’s almost always space for the political. It can be a portal for others to join you or connect with what you have to say.
Avoid the mindset of there never being enough time – to start, to finish, to think, to play. If we’re honest with ourselves we are ultimately responsible for deciding how to use our time, how to prioritise, when to procrastinate and when to avoid. Time is generally the greatest stumbling block, not just hours here and there but real substantial chunks of time. As Brian Eno once said:
“The difficulty of always feeling that you ought to be doing something is that you tend to undervalue the times when you’re apparently doing nothing, and those are very important times. It’s the equivalent of the dream time, in your daily life, times when things get sorted out and reshuffled. If you’re constantly awake work-wise you don’t allow that to happen.”
Time to do nothing is what’s really needed to allow creative thinking and practice to emerge. This is something I find very easy to avoid, always filling my time with busying, diverting, maybe denying, not allowing, possibly fearing where it might take me and what I might see. Gift yourself more time to walk, to reflect, to write, to talk. I’ve realised it’s not an indulgence but an invaluable part of the process.
It’s easy to write all this advice down but putting these things into practice is something else again. In recent weeks I’ve stepped back from my role as Rising Arts Agency’s Director and re-entered the world of freelancing, free time, flexibility and opportunity. For me the most important thing is learning to just be – with myself, with my thoughts, with my new-found freedom, and with my potential. Not filling my time with email-checking and other endless distractions, but trusting that space of not knowing, sitting with it and seeing what happens. What makes me? What could break me? How do I begin to know the answers to these questions without time to spend on a total, self-indulgent immersion in my own identity.
Wherever you are in your creative journey embrace the term ‘artist’ if it works for you. Claim it, wallow in it and enjoy it. It’s artists we turn to in moments of need, uncertainty or despair. We are essential to progress and the world needs us badly right now.
