One of the more challenging “duties” that goes hand-in-hand with making art is the Artist’s Talk. And while I know a few people who seem to be naturals at it – their off-the-cuff words flowing easily and coherently – that’s not the case for many. The rest of us have to really work at this necessary and important part of our job. The upside is that giving a talk can ultimately be very rewarding, especially once it opens up into a conversation with the audience.

This was the gist of a recent lunchtime discussion among a circle of artist friends, one of whom was bucking against an upcoming talk she is required to give. She would prefer to let the viewers be in the driver’s seat in terms of what they take away from her paintings, feeling she’s done the hard work of creating and now it is up to those viewers to ferret out meaning for themselves. If I understood what she was saying correctly, she gets lost in the making and isn’t necessarily thinking in the same terms as the questions that are often posed regarding the significance of certain objects or circumstances within her work. Therefore, she feels awkward in responding to such questions or in explaining her motivations. She would rather others assign their own interpretations to what they see.

The general consensus of the discussion, however, was that artists’ talks are crucial for connecting with viewers on a deeper level, while affording one more control regarding how the work is perceived, and thus received. Not only do talks offer a means for inviting viewers to better understand how you work, but also why you work. Most people are genuinely interested in hearing about the incentives behind art that intrigues them. Many of the artists’ talks I’ve attended have opened unexpected doors, invariably giving me some nugget of information that expands my appreciation of what I’m seeing within a greater context and to an extent I never would have gleaned on my own.

Preparing for a talk is a lot more work for some of us than it is for others. I find it incredibly time-consuming and an exercise that requires digging deeply in order to articulate ideas and objectives as clearly as possible. It is not fun; there is so much writing, rewriting and editing that occurs behind the scenes. But that said, there are positive take-aways. As much as I’d rather pass, I can’t deny that distilling my ideas and objectives in advance of a talk has not only allowed me to (hopefully) convey them fluidly to others, but it’s an effort that circles back to the studio, reinforcing and feeding the core of my hours spent there.

Believe me, I am no expert. But these two books have been extremely helpful to me as I’ve worked my way through this challenge, especially the one by McGowan.

10 Days to More Confident Public Speaking by The Princeton Language Institute and Larry Laskowski

Pitch Perfect: How to Say it Right The First Time, Every Time by Bill McGowan

If you have an upcoming talk, I promise they will help. That and the one other indispensable ingredient: practice, practice, practice.

On a completely different note  _________________________________________________________________

“When you lose someone you love, you start to look for new ways to understand the world.” 

So begins the trailer to 306 Hollywood, a wonderful episode from PBS’ POV series that is part documentary, part art film, part love letter to a beloved, deceased grandmother.  The trailer’s synopsis describes it best: “306 Hollywood is a magical realist documentary of two siblings who undertake an archaeological excavation of their late grandmother’s house. They embark on a journey from her home in New Jersey to ancient Rome, from fashion to physics, in search of what life remains in the objects we leave behind”.

It’s both a gem and a visual delight for anyone who knows the loss of a beloved family elder and the challenge of deciding how to negotiate the objects that speak to who that person was and the marks they left on their loved ones and on the world.  Check your PBS station or rent it on iTunes.