Thoughts & Opinions

Designing Your Sculpture Studio: Part 1 July/Aug 2004

Details: Created: Friday, 02 July 2004 05:10

Ed.: As you will see, Bill has a lot to say about the design and use of a sculpture studio. The Journal will be printing more of his thoughts in the next issue or two, so standby for lots and lots to think about for your present studio, or that perfect one you’ve always dreamed about.

My research for what has turned out to be this article started when I decided to build a sculpture studio. I spoke with Jeff Brash, a fellow stone sculptor on San Juan Island. He had many useful ideas, but basically said it is all about the individual’s idiosyncrasies (what size stone? For what other uses will the shop be put?) and the individual’s budget. And then I spoke with Tom Small, another local stone sculptor. “It’s all about one’s philosophy,” Tom said. So the short version of this article is this: Designing a shop depends upon your own budget, philosophy, and the uses to which your shop will be put.

I wanted more guidance on the decisions I needed to make as I thought about building a studio. Actually, Tom later fleshed out his thoughts on philosophy, and Tom and Jeff, as well as Tracy Powell and Alexandra Morosco, were happy to assist as well. I also relied heavily on advice from participants in the valuable web site www.learningstone.net (a world-wide web site of stone enthusiasts who share their knowledge). What follows is the results of my research.

I give you fair warning before you begin I have never built a sculpture studio. This predisposition to claim expertise on issues I know nothing about is not new. (After all, I’m a lawyer.) Worse, I’ve done this in print long ago, I proposed, writing for SAIL Magazine, an article on “how to buy a used boat.” Having just bought one, I knew a lot about it. The magazine wasn’t interested, but did need on article on “how to buy a new boat,” a subject about which I knew nothing. After a fair amount of research, I wrote the article, which they happily published– but without having actually bought a new boat. Subsequently, my boat broker – who was trying to sell my used boat and knew I had never purchased a new boat in my life – called to complain that one of his clients had made an offer on a new boat and included a clause the broker thought was unreasonable. When the broker said so, the client whipped out the article I had written as proof he was right. The broker knew I didn’t have a clue, but he had a hard time convincing his client of that. So be forewarned.

Philosophy Really Does Matter

If I were to ask Tom Small, I think he might suggest that the time I spent drafting this article could have been more productively employed carving. He thinks too much is made of the physical space. And indeed, as you’ll see below, Tom is an advocate of the “non-studio” studio: so long as you have a roof over your head to protect you and your tools from the rain, that’s sufficient. He agrees that thought needs to be given to design, drainage, neighbors, natural light, wind conditions, electricity and water. But basically Tom’s advice is, like Nike’s: “Just Do It.” That said, this article is addressed to those who want to do it, but want to do it in a more substantial structure to hold their sculptural life.

Size Matters Too

Many beginning sculptors build a structure that seems fine in concept: For example, another lawyer-sculptor built a 14’ x 18’ building with a 6’ covered porch. Beyond that was additional outside carving space. He found the size ideal as a carving space, but forgot about his stone inventory. “Where to keep all those stones I tend to acquire,” he asked, “and where to put all the finished pieces I haven’t been able to sell yet.” So you either store elsewhere or build bigger.

Most sculptors work on more than one piece at a time. (Tom Small currently has twenty-two in various stages of completion.) So plan space for storing your in-process work, as well as your finished inventory.

You’ll also need enough space to store a lot of tools, and (if you use water inside) to protect them in cabinets or covered shelving. And for those of us who work on soft stone like alabaster, you’ll need covered storage for those stones.

Jeff Brash (who works in hard stone) suggests your workspace should be large enough to have five tools plugged in and ready for use at any one time: perhaps a diamond polishing blade, a diamond cutting blade, a diamond planer to plane large surfaces, one (or more) size variations of the tools above (like 5” and 7” cutting blades), and a die grinder. But then Jeff, by his own admission, owned 26 grinders at last count, which surely qualifies him (Jeff, please forgive me) as an “equipment whacko.”

I’d say “build as large as you can,” but you already knew that. Those in the profession full-time, typically build as large as they can afford – but because they are in the profession full-time, that often isn’t as large as they’d like. How large? Alexandra Morosco: 32 x 64, of which 16 x 32 is enclosed; Tracy Powell: 24 x 36 of which 24 x 24 is enclosed; Tom Small: 600 square feet under roof (of which none is enclosed except for a small shed for his compressor) with perhaps 1,200 feet overall in the immediate vicinity devoted to carving, some of it under pavilion-tent coverings, some just under the forest canopy.

Although Tom doesn’t have an enclosed studio, he comes from a family of builders and architects: he suggests that the minimum convenient space between walls is 16’, to allow room for shelves or workspaces at the side, and a circulation path around the sculpture in the middle.

Another sculptor (George Graham, a contributor to learningstone.net) recommends a space of 28 by 40 feet. It looked large when empty, he said, but “when I put in shelves and a work bench, a small enclosed room for granite work, a dust collector, a compressor, and space just for raw material, and finished work, it will be crowded.”

Of course, size in part is a function of cost. One issue will be the type of building you want. Post frame buildings, such as TEXMO, can get you a lot of space for the price, but will often have an industrial feel about them. But using a local contractor to stick-build a cute studio will be considerably more expensive. One compromise would be a precut stick-built building erected on site by the manufacturer’s crew.

One convenient design is a “clerestory pole barn”- that is, a raised main bay, which allows for the installation of windows on either side of the main bay, with two lower side sections. One sculptor I know uses this design with an 18’ x 24’ main bay with an 18’ rafter height; each side has a 10’ x 24’ shed bay with 12’ clearance. (TEXMO will build a shell of this basic design, with each section 12’ x 24’, for about $24,000.) For reasons of economics, many of us have to build smaller than that.

Location

Okay, look, I’m a lawyer. So I think lawyerly-type thoughts. Such as, after a summer of stone-dust plumes drifting onto their house, how will my neighbors react? This isn’t the place for a treatise on the law of nuisance, but separate from pure legal principles, the facts are clear: if you make your neighbors’ lives miserable from your stone work, they will find a way to make your life miserable. Limiting the impact of what you do on your neighbors therefore makes sense both from a financial, as well as a neighborly, perspective. So be considerate, and at the same time, insure you are in compliance with your municipality’s zoning and noise ordinances. A call to your local government’s planning department may be useful.

Lighting

We need to have enough light to see what we are doing, but not so diffuse so as to eliminate the definition that shadows add. In my querying to learningstone.net, I asked what I thought was a simple question: artists like north-facing light in their garrets. Is that true for sculptors also?

Comments were many and various. One writer (William Moore) stated that “True light reveals the truth of the sculpture we create...the subtle inconsistencies across a convexing surface reveal our limitations as workers in pursuit of perfection. The faceting from a tool chattering can only be resolved by careful study in multiple light angles at different times of day.”

As sculptors of stone, the only light we are accountable to is the light of the sun. All other light is inferior in its ability to illuminate the truth of what we leave behind. Florescent, incandescent, halogen, candle or lamp all create specific effects depending on the angle one chooses to shadow from...you must often lose contrast in one area to create shadow in another.... No matter how fluent you become in the language and application of artificial light, there are few artificial light sources which can reveal the true nature of the surface you are creating.” Tom Small also prefers to work out from under a roof, under natural light (although he said so more simply). He adds that “the way the trees filter my southern exposure is critical. There are ‘holes’ in the tree canopy that give me different lights at different times of the day, and it does affect what I work on. I enjoy that shifting with the light.”

The fantasy studio of George Graham (another learningstone.net contributor) would have sky lights, with the north and west walls (for late afternoon light) made of windows. He would rather start off with too much light and work down. He’s used shutters to block the light when necessary, preferring light coming from over his shoulder and off to the side much more then having light directly overhead, which he thinks creates distorting shadows. He prefers working outside as much as possible.

Similarly, Clive Murray-White’s view (again, a learningstone.net contributor) is that the painting tradition of favoring light from the north (or in his case, in the southern hemisphere, light from the south) doesn’t make sense to him for three-dimensional work. He chose to build his studio facing into the sun, with multiple sky lights and a large roller door for light. His reasoning: he wanted an ever-changing light source, to help him pick up weaknesses in form. (He also has a movable set of lights hanging from an overhead omni directional gantry crane, which allows him to pour light onto any area as needed.)

On the other hand, another writer to the learningstone.net site (Bill Knight) thought that: “Direct light is very undesirable and if you do build south facing skylights, you will have to deal with screening or deflecting the light.... Direct light on your work will be dazzling, but difficult to work with. Sculpting is very light dependent. “

“Vertical light is usually best. Windows are a waste of wall space and will introduce lateral light which will undermine your vertical light. I have covered all the windows in my shop. Light is the number one priority in my fantasy shop. I work by vertical daylight alone and it is very disturbing to see a piece, that I have struggled over all day, turn ghoulish and wrong when I come in at night and it is lit poorly.”

Bill Knight’s story is instructive. He moved to the country eight years ago and became the owner of a 24 by 32 foot garage-type outbuilding with a mildly pitched roof and a concrete pad, which he converted into a sculptor’s studio. Having previously had a windowless painting studio, he was excited to have the opportunity to substitute “the round glowing light of nature” for flat incandescents. So he added windows to his studio. Then he turned a whole wall into windows. Then he started cutting skylights in the roof and replaced the tin with clear polycarbonate. He liked that so much he replaced nearly the entire roof with polycarbonate. He got “wonderful splendid light-vibrating-seething!” But then he had too much light. He put a tarp over the whole thing in the hot summer and had had to hang vertical sheets of material to block the low angle raking lights of winter. He notes it is impossible to work when half the work has blinding sun on it. (Tom Small agrees that it is almost impossible to work on, or see well, the shaded part of a work when you are facing the sun: he uses a piece of plywood or a big umbrella to block the sun if he can’t rotate the work.)

Later Bill Knight discovered that light from his windows would undermine the shadow scheme from his skylights when doing exacting work. So he covered up the windows and doesn’t regret it.

His conclusion: natural light is important – either over-head florescent lights or lateral incandescents would interfere with his ability to create the natural forms he was seeking. But, he says, “the tradition of the northern skylights has a real basis in quality and workability.” So he has turned into a day-time only sculptor.

For those interested in lighting design, he recommends “A Sculptor’s Fortunes,” by Walker Hancock. Hancock wrote vividly, in his memoir, of disastrous lighting installations.

One important issue: where will the sculpture be installed? Some sculptors think each piece should be sculpted under similar lighting conditions to those where it will be viewed when installed. For example, if your sculpture will be floodlit from below at night, you will want to be sure you have studied it from that perspective first. Otherwise, I am told, the results can be bizarre. (Tom Small suggests the best solution is to make a sculpture that looks good in most light.)

Those who prefer to work in sunlight often seem to prefer diffuse sunlight broken up by shades or trees. Some sculptors find that direct light makes it difficult to distinguish between a line, and a shadow. This can be a particular problem with some types of granite local to the Northwest. Tom Small’s solution: sharp, distinct edges; definition; and graphic form. However, when you’re doing finish work like polishing, direct light can be useful.

But don’t forget when installing all those windows to get double-pane glass, for insulation. You may also want to cover your windows with lexan on the inside, to protect them from flying chips (a lesson Jeff Brash learned when a chip broke one of his windows).

Rock Economics 101 - July/Aug 2004

Details: Created: Friday, 02 July 2004 04:51

Let’s hope you didn’t become an artist so you could get rich. Even the mythological “famous artist” seems to have died with Andy Warhol. So, in the absence of fame and fortune, wouldn’t it be nice to approach the profession with the notion that you might someday make a decent living at it? After more than a quarter of a century as a dealer and curator in the field of visual art, I am continually amazed by the number of artists that have little knowledge of the economics of art.

Surprisingly, even many veteran artists remain hopelessly naïve about the basic business practices of the discipline. This can be attributed in part to the absence of practical information provided to art students by professors who rely almost exclusively on their institutional salaries to survive. Many more artists simply refuse to accept the fact that they are involved in an entrepreneurial enterprise, preferring to focus only on the creative aspects of the endeavor. My hope here is that I can impart useful information that may help readers avoid the frequent impediments that threaten to derail careers, with a focus on stone sculptors, who face unique economic circumstances.

A common fallacy among artists is that gallery affiliation represents a panacea. As a longtime gallery owner and independent art dealer, I am painfully aware that it is a difficult and thankless profession, fraught with financial peril and emotional hardship. Having said that, the economics of the gallery business weigh heavily in favor of the dealer. A typical gallery will represent the work of thirty or more artists. Simple arithmetic indicates that each artist is relegated to one solo exhibit every two or three years. While the dealer may sell a small selection of works each year from the gallery stable, this rarely amounts to anything approaching a sustainable income for the individual artists. The dealer, however, retains a 50% commission from the gallery sales of all of the artists represented, which combined with sales from solo exhibitions, provides a tidy revenue stream. Financially successful artists invariably secure representation in several major cities, with frequent gallery and museum exhibitions – a luxury available to only the most celebrated artists.

The stark reality of the business, however, almost dictates that artists develop a relationship with a gallery. Attempting to establish a reputation without the assistance of a dealer proves daunting for most artists. Successful dealers have the marketing skills required to launch careers and have ready access to curators and collectors. Approaching a gallery is an art unto itself. Most dealers routinely dismiss inquiries by simply stating, “We’re not accepting new artists at this time.” This is generally true, though economics mandate that galleries introduce new artists on a regular basis in order to remain viable.

A handful of galleries will have an established review process - particularly new galleries anxious to recruit artists. A call to the gallery or a visit to their website may specify their procedures. It is highly implausible that this method will result in the establishment of an immediate business relationship. Attempt to familiarize yourself with the gallery’s aesthetic prior to any serious discussion. Try to imagine your work within the context of the art that is regularly exhibited. It’s helpful to establish a personal relationship with the dealer before discussing representation. Attend as many receptions as possible and visit the gallery during regular hours. Try to initiate casual conversation about the gallery’s artists and its exhibitions as it relates to your work. If the opportunity presents itself, invite the dealer for a studio visit. An informal studio tour will allow you to focus attention on your work without distractions. Another common practice is to gain a referral from an artist in the gallery’s stable.

Stone sculpture poses a particular commercial challenge. Most galleries feature a high percentage of paintings, drawings, photographs and prints. Patrons often agonize over the placement of three-dimensional artworks within their collections. The weight and volume of stone pieces cause additional concern for both dealers and potential buyers. Price point presents another obstacle for artists working in stone. The expense of materials, tools and studio space, as well as the labor-intensive nature of the work, often require higher sales prices simply to recoup costs. When you add the 50% sales commission retained by the dealer, stone sculpture quickly becomes cost-prohibitive for many collectors. This can impede a novice artist attempting to establish a patronage.

Getting a commitment from a gallery is no small feat. While the artist population in the Northwest has grown exponentially over the past two decades, the number of galleries has remained relatively stable. And dealing with a gallery is no picnic for artists, either. The deck is stacked against you, and you’re playing a weak hand. Nearly all galleries will present new artists with a standard contract that is both unfavorable and unfair. Some terms of the contract, however, can be negotiated. Suggest that the contract take effect three months prior to your first solo exhibit. Limit the term of the contract to 18 months. I’ve known artists tied to long term contracts that never got a solo show. Specify commission rates (i e. 50% for gallery and direct referral sales, 25% for studio sales, 10% for public commissions, etc.). Negotiate recoupable expenses such as advertising, announcement production, mailing, photography, etc. Some of these expenses are charged to the artist when they should be split or fully assumed by the gallery. I’ve known many artists that have been presented with bills in excess of sales. Most contracts have an escape clause, but don’t exercise it unless your situation is dire. Don’t cheat your gallery by selling work without informing them. You’ll be caught and blacklisted. In pricing your work, trust the dealer. It‘s in the gallery’s interest to get the maximum price for work, thus increasing their commission. They know their clientele. Don’t assume a solo show will provide a financial windfall. You will be extremely lucky to break even.

While this may paint a bleak picture, before heading over the nearest bridge rail, consider that many of the obstacles confronting stone sculptors in gallery venues can be attributes in the lucrative realm of public art. Most public commissions refrain from purchasing works using experimental media, which require high maintenance budgets, in favor of pieces employing traditional materials that have a history of withstanding the elements and public abuse. The playing field tends to level with these public projects. The selection process is more transparent, providing an opportunity to gain public broad exposure for your work. By fabricating your own work, rather than contracting it out, you increase your profit margin.

Public commissions are generally available to all “professional artists,” a loosely defined distinction that, in effect, excludes only students. Announcements of these competitions appear on agency websites and trade publications. Be realistic when applying for these commissions. Confine yourself initially to smaller budgeted community projects. Having participated as a peer panelist for several public agencies, following are a few tips that apply to all submittal applications.

Read the guidelines carefully and follow the criteria to the letter. Applications that fail to follow rules are routinely discarded or returned. Don’t assume you can submit your application one day, or even one hour, after the deadline. You can’t. If the application calls for a narrative in the space provided in 10-point type, don’t use 9-point type. Some font styles will allow a few more words in a given space, but you are better served by brevity. Don’t lie on your resume. The art world is small and incestuous. Exaggerations will be spotted. Your resume is used primarily to verify that you can be reasonably expected to complete the project, rather than to impress jurors with your education and exhibition history. As such, don’t hesitate to include professional experience that points to accomplishments in related fields.

Work samples are the most important component of the application. The art world is slow to respond to evolving technology – 35mm color slides remain the standard. It’s worth the expense of hiring a professional photographer. Slides with a yellow or blue cast, (shot with the wrong film), are totally undesirable and should not be included. Confine yourself to one detail view. Make sure to label the slides and compose the script in strict accordance with instructions. Submit work completed within the past two years, or at least label it that way. If the application requests a budget, research expenses meticulously and be specific with each line item. Include a five percent contingency. If the maximum project allowance is, say $10,000, tool your proposal to a slightly smaller and very specific amount – say, $8,925. This method alone will distinguish your application from others, almost all of which will request the maximum. Most applications request an artist’s statement. Many of these statements are grammatically inept. Be brief and descriptive. Use short sentences and everyday language. Avoid the opaque prose associated with postmodern art criticism. It’s acceptable to reference past movements that place your work in historical perspective, but don’t acknowledge specific artists or artworks that have influenced you. And please, don’t use superlatives to describe your work.

A couple of closing thoughts: there are plenty of predators out there eager to exploit desperate artists. Carefully research “contests” that require entry fees to make sure they are legitimate. Avoid any gallery that requires up-front payments of any kind. Self-representation is a viable alternative to gallery affiliation, but it’s far from easy. Independently produced collective exhibitions are a better approach, particularly if some participants have marketing skills. Good luck in fashioning a viable art career. You’ll need it.