My sense has always been that you’ve got to create the kind of work that excites you. Otherwise, if you chase the audience, you might land on success but never feel truly fulfilled creatively. Rick Rubin argues that the audience comes last. That the audience doesn’t necessarily know what it wants, because you haven’t shown them yet. So audiences default to what’s familiar until something authentic and new comes along. Art is tough. What excites you may bore others. Van Gogh didn’t sell much. Ahead of his time. And no doubt other artists never find an audience, despite their authenticity and passion. But even then, if the work doesn’t quicken your heart, it’ll never satisfy.
Thank you for the comment, John. That sounds exactly right to me, especially the part about the audience not knowing what it wants until it arrives. I think most people can make that case about their own tastes, too, if they try to remember when they first learned about the art that they now value the most.
I agree and yet not all creative mediums play by those same rules. Making visual work that one knows will not be seen for at least for two years, until it is released, one must develop a uncanny sense for visual anticipation. Fashion anticipation. What has the audience not seen before, what is novel. This involves extensive research to broaden the range for the viewer. The research driven by story that enhances character and arc development. I am referencing feature films, my former career which was primarily visual world creation, so benchmark films like Brazil and Road Warrior are good examples of world creation that were emulated by many films for years after. (Before Marvel and DC dominated and stultified that market.) That was then.
Speculative fiction when I was young and now that I am writing, it is historical narratives I find compelling. The fish out of water, no ancient stone left unturned kind. Fresh eyes on overlooked treasure, and a new set of conventions to play with. Subvert. I try to accept that new audiences may never find me, or my work again, possibly because I stopped looking for them. I often worry about that, now working alone and not collaborating. No longer fame adjacent, and adverse to the seemingly necessary self marketing, I find there are different signposts, different clues, and an unfamiliar kind of existential way finding. A new novelty.
“The Wiwa View”, and “The Love Beads” are years away from completion, and may never be read in my lifetime. In the meantime… Substack?
Thanks for adding your thoughts here—there's a lot to consider in what you wrote. On your latter point, on being discovered, I wonder if there's some utility in consciously separating creation from marketing. Perhaps when you're creating, that's your entire focus, the consequences not a consideration; and perhaps when you're finding a spot in the world for your creation, you're using different—also creative—muscles to ensure that it reaches an audience. And on your former point, on the idea of researching the audience beforehand, those two steps can be reversed. This isn't necessarily the answer, or an answer for everyone, but I think it can be a useful frame. Thank you again for the thoughtful words.
I’m not at all sure I want to be “discovered”. It is a life changing often ruinous conclusion to going public. Creation has always been my wheelhouse, that is not at question. My work, has been seen.
I find that it is the social media personal exposure and monetization aspects that I find disturbing. And, adjusting to the lack of income post successful career is hard. Disability does that.
I do like the idea of reversing the flow. Insightful but not in the way you describe. Good advice.
I can agree with the reluctance to discovery, especially if there isn't a broader endpoint. It is perfectly reasonable for someone to share their art, to have their art appreciated, but there's a tricky line when that becomes the entire purpose. And it is also perfectly reasonable if someone avoids that consciously—which I think is more common than some people, looking at the culture, might expect.
Yes. Ostracized for years by some artists when I started to work in feature films in 1977. The stigma of earning a living while making art in the 80’s. 😱
My sense has always been that you’ve got to create the kind of work that excites you. Otherwise, if you chase the audience, you might land on success but never feel truly fulfilled creatively. Rick Rubin argues that the audience comes last. That the audience doesn’t necessarily know what it wants, because you haven’t shown them yet. So audiences default to what’s familiar until something authentic and new comes along. Art is tough. What excites you may bore others. Van Gogh didn’t sell much. Ahead of his time. And no doubt other artists never find an audience, despite their authenticity and passion. But even then, if the work doesn’t quicken your heart, it’ll never satisfy.
Thank you for the comment, John. That sounds exactly right to me, especially the part about the audience not knowing what it wants until it arrives. I think most people can make that case about their own tastes, too, if they try to remember when they first learned about the art that they now value the most.
I agree and yet not all creative mediums play by those same rules. Making visual work that one knows will not be seen for at least for two years, until it is released, one must develop a uncanny sense for visual anticipation. Fashion anticipation. What has the audience not seen before, what is novel. This involves extensive research to broaden the range for the viewer. The research driven by story that enhances character and arc development. I am referencing feature films, my former career which was primarily visual world creation, so benchmark films like Brazil and Road Warrior are good examples of world creation that were emulated by many films for years after. (Before Marvel and DC dominated and stultified that market.) That was then.
Speculative fiction when I was young and now that I am writing, it is historical narratives I find compelling. The fish out of water, no ancient stone left unturned kind. Fresh eyes on overlooked treasure, and a new set of conventions to play with. Subvert. I try to accept that new audiences may never find me, or my work again, possibly because I stopped looking for them. I often worry about that, now working alone and not collaborating. No longer fame adjacent, and adverse to the seemingly necessary self marketing, I find there are different signposts, different clues, and an unfamiliar kind of existential way finding. A new novelty.
“The Wiwa View”, and “The Love Beads” are years away from completion, and may never be read in my lifetime. In the meantime… Substack?
Thanks for adding your thoughts here—there's a lot to consider in what you wrote. On your latter point, on being discovered, I wonder if there's some utility in consciously separating creation from marketing. Perhaps when you're creating, that's your entire focus, the consequences not a consideration; and perhaps when you're finding a spot in the world for your creation, you're using different—also creative—muscles to ensure that it reaches an audience. And on your former point, on the idea of researching the audience beforehand, those two steps can be reversed. This isn't necessarily the answer, or an answer for everyone, but I think it can be a useful frame. Thank you again for the thoughtful words.
I’m not at all sure I want to be “discovered”. It is a life changing often ruinous conclusion to going public. Creation has always been my wheelhouse, that is not at question. My work, has been seen.
I find that it is the social media personal exposure and monetization aspects that I find disturbing. And, adjusting to the lack of income post successful career is hard. Disability does that.
I do like the idea of reversing the flow. Insightful but not in the way you describe. Good advice.
I can agree with the reluctance to discovery, especially if there isn't a broader endpoint. It is perfectly reasonable for someone to share their art, to have their art appreciated, but there's a tricky line when that becomes the entire purpose. And it is also perfectly reasonable if someone avoids that consciously—which I think is more common than some people, looking at the culture, might expect.
Yes. Ostracized for years by some artists when I started to work in feature films in 1977. The stigma of earning a living while making art in the 80’s. 😱
Thank you for the comment and for this memorable line: "The stigma of earning a living while making art in the 80’s."