New artist statement? (mk)

I have been workshopping a new artist statement. The rough draft looks exactly like this:

The philosopher Kwame Anthony Appuradi was recently asked about the ethics of buying second hand items from book and record stores and what consumers owe producers of art. In his response, he did not ignore the importance of building systems that support artists. But he used the thrust of his argument to underline the communal importance of such places like book and record stores, writing:

Used-book stores or vintage-record shops, where hidden gems lurk like geodes waiting to be split open, play a role, too. Such venues don’t just preserve art; they bring enthusiasts together, spark conversations and cultivate new audiences. In Michael Chabon’s novel Telegraph Avenue, a vintage-record shop is both a community hub and a battlefront for cultural preservation; in Helene Hanff’s book 84, Charing Cross Road, treasured titles help sustain a human connection across an ocean.

Having once worked in a record store myself, I remember my favorite customers and coworkers, with whom I shared a love of almost every sound a human being can make and, by extension, a community. These places create a sense of belonging. Thinking of ‘belonging’ in etymological terms, it is both a word that connotes ownership (in the Western world, this record belongs to me) and desire (in Islamic poetry, it is literally to be in longing for something). A good record store, book store, and library operates as a kind of archive with stewards excited to talk about both the great new thing and the forgotten treasure. My art practice embraces the ordinary affects of belonging in these spaces and utilizes the conceptual heft to think about how the visual, sound, and installation can combine to create areas of rumination, conversation, and togetherness.

So, that’s it, Ithink . It’s getting close, I think, to the spirit of the work I am making. And while I am trying to write specifically about my artwork, I am also thinking about teaching. bell hooks writes about the importance of her feeling “seen” in the classroom; when her instructors knew a bit about her beyond the classroom walls, she felt the content of her classes became more relevant. The friction generated around the exploration of, shall we say, dope shit is productive. It works best when I am not imposing my taste on you (Television’s Marquee Moon is transcendent) but creating a space where both your taste, a student’s taste, and my taste are all treated seriously and worth exploration. Here’s to more of that.