the writing journey of my artist statement

During Unit 1, I wrote this small piece of story:

Ai is the other man’s daughter. Four years old. She is with a four or five-year-old boy, playing sands on the beach. They play well.
The boy’s parents come to take their kid into the sea. The boy goes to Ai to say goodbye.

I’m going to the sea!
What are you saying? Ai asked.
I’m going to the sea!

And then he goes into the sea. When he comes back, they have already forgotten each other.


 

But then I go to the other direction:

Regardless the debate of whether the meaning of the artwork sits outside of work, I think one of the difficulties on asking the artist to provide a personal statement is that it is equivalent to ask them to firmly guarantee to the others – “I know what I am doing”, “I ‘m certain about what the works are doing”. It seems to me that it’s not my job to write a concisely explanatory statement to provide a sense of security, which happens to be an effortlessly turn back on the most important things – to continuously question myself and to respect the mysteries of art.

To solve this dilemma, the best thing to do is to make the artist statement itself also a piece of work. In this case, the statement is no longer an answer that the audience is seeking for, but a real trap disguised as a safety net. Regarding this, and also the demand for text length, the readability of the text, the connection between work and artist, I present the short story above as my artist statement. If anyone else keeps asking me what that statement means, my final surrender would be undressing myself in front of the window of the gallery so that the neighbours can see it. The artist says, look at me! I have a profound meaning!


 

Later, I developed these:

Overcoming the awkward situation that I’m not good at writing but just good enough to know what not to write, I believe one major difficulty for an artist to write a personal statement is that it is equivalent to require he or she to admit that the game went into overtime. Now the artist has to cultivate another piece of the battlefield for a playoff, try again to firmly guarantee to the others: I know what I am doing. I know what the works are doing. However, a concisely explanatory statement provides nothing but a sense of security, which happens to be an effortlessly turn back on the most important things – to question oneself continuously and to respect the unthinkability of art.

Regarding this and also the demand for text length, the readability of the text, the connection between the work and the artist, one way to solve the dilemma is to make the artist statement also a piece of work. Therefore, the statement is no longer an answer that the audience is seeking, but a real trap disguised as a safety net anchored by words. If there is anyone still asking what does it means, the artist would say, “I don’t know”. She guarantees that she does not know. That short statement is the only right she insists and also the responsibility she takes on the extra battlefield.

 


Finally, this is on my website:

Yaoyao is a volunteer fasting art practitioner, film professional and a freelance labourer whose interests has long centred in using constructed time, space and information to produce (dys)functional relationships between _______  and pseudo ________   in a distorted, copied, edited context. However, she makes works not because she wants to seduce you, not because she wants you firmly believe in something nor wants you to start fantasising owning whatever good or bad, pretty or ugly, fake or real. She just to want you to look and read. Just to look and read. If this part of the job can be complete, then her job is all complete.