I had to call in this morning to the electrical wholesale shop in order to collect some light-bulbs. (They seem to be a rather unusual kind that I can’t pick up in the supermarket.) Explaining to the sales assistant why I needed them I mentioned that I live in Clayton, and she responded immediately by reminiscing about Frank. Frank used to be our local electrician, known to everybody in the village and widely respected. Of course I knew Frank …. everybody did, and nobody ever mentions him without some fond association. Sadly he retired about two years ago, and died very shortly afterwards.
The important thing about this conversation, it struck me while driving home afterwards, is that whenever Frank appears in conversation there is emotional charge attaches to the discussion. People not only knew him, but at the mention of his name it immediately become clear that they attached value to this fact. People have feelings about Frank as well as mere memories of him. “What a lovely man!” the sales assistant exclaimed.
It then occurred me that this really is the key to what we might consider to be good art. It has to carry an emotional charge. It is not enough that a piece of work is technically impressive, and certainly not enough to say that it embodies some sophisticated conceptual reference. Unless the piece in question elicits some emotional response on the part of the viewer then it isn’t going to rate as good art.
After the rather hectic period of the past couple of months, during which I have been quite busy exhibiting work, it is now possible to begin to think about new projects, and also to begin to turn my attention to possible new occasions on which my work might be shown. It will be valuable in this process if I can keep in mind this morning’s conversation in the electrical showroom, and the response I shared with the sales assistant when Frank’s name came up. Unless anything I have to offer carries that emotional impact I might as well not bother.