Two years in Miami

Today is day number four of being alone with my six month old Luciano. Don't get me wrong, I adore him and he brings me nothing but joy, however, I would like to take a shower, cook or even use the bathroom alone. 

 I was considering the first months with him and how diligent I was in making sure his first experiences were perfect sensory pleasures. The water birth, baby wearing, co-sleeping, all the good things. Although we continue most of them, I can see that the collective unconscious is slowly showing itself and I do not have to introduce things as though he was an alien arrived from another planet. His instincts are so strong, he knows what to do. 

I started to blog, since I have at least twenty years of journals and writings that no one will probably ever see and they are scattered between napkins, backs of receipts, loose sheets, word documents and notebooks. This is a far more organized and modern.

Sigh.

I have been in Miami two years last month. I came here to escape the dreary London weather, swim, be happy and try to make some room for myself in the art world. The first part worked out great, when I moved here I was swimming, snorkeling, cycling, socializing all under the beautiful, super-real sunlight. When I stepped out of the airport and saw the sky and the colors around it was surreal. The level of color vibration was amazing.  Everything a pop painting. 

But after being away from the high energy of the London art world, things become more focused. At first you miss it, the events, the openings, the crowds, the bull shit conversations. Oh how delicious for the artist's ego. And that is why everyone was there, massage our insecure egos, maybe the word is onanistic. Even then I had my suspicions,  everyone trying to make it, Saatchi this, Jay Joplin that, YBA crap. It was a propaganda ploy, lets be art rock stars. All of them made out well, celebrity artists, celebrity attended events, media all equals buyers. Oh and lets not forget the art schools. They are the real bandits. Kids going for celebrity degree shows and ending up with $40,000 of debt. Most Universities are money scams. "Got to college, earn your degree, so you can get a good job", yeah right. That is how they get you, incur a debt that you can't pay for and there you have another cog in the wheel of Capitalist society.

But maybe it works out for some people.

Being in Miami, living in Little Haiti, chickens walking down the street, things start to break down. 20 blocks South is the Design district, high price furniture, rugs, tile, clothes, food, expensive cars and suited people stepping out of them, what is it all for? Money?

Another 20 blocks south in Wynwood, where all the real contemporary galleries are, Kevin Bruk, Fred Snitzer, and for me it is a mini, more laid back London. Great at first, but essentially the environment that killed art for me. 

My first December here (Which is referred to as "The Season", because Art Basel comes into town),I was working for a private art dealer who had a booth in Art Miami (an art fair). It was great, high paced and constant socializing. But I was making no commission and I was selling. What I wanted was my work in an art fair, I thought that was a good thing. But then I saw dealer and gallery purchase prices, I saw what they sold it for and I saw that the artists were no longer involved in any way. No share, no profits, just one time payment. Everything was a commodity, the meaning of a piece would be changed client to client. Ambiguous artist statements preferred. Just keep making more of that, that one thing.  And those of you who say "Okay" you are no longer an artist, you are a manufacturer. 

Being an artist today is very difficult, I do not think you can just sit back and make paintings, photos, drawings or whatever it is you do. You must engage fully with the world around you and ask it to do things. Maybe a real artist is someone who can be without material things and find solace in community and has an ability to be anywhere and with anybody. Maybe a real artist isn't called an artist anymore.

It has been as of recently that I find all traditional art trite and inconsiderate of the real world, including my own and I long for a change. It is sort of depressing, since I have spent most of my adult life involved in contemporary art, but at least I came out of it this way rather than the alternative. 

Well, it is 5:53 pm and I have successfully baked a vegan orange and chocolate cake while wearing the Baby Bjorn. I think it turned out okay, considering it is Vegan,  it is more like a bread then a cake, but I'm sure it will be appreciated.