I used to catalogue religiously. I had files and files of lists of lists with flyers and leaflets and records of this and records of that. At some point none of it seemed to matter any more and the collection of paper and polypockets started to stagnate.
I think the stagnation set in at the moment I stopped crawling around desperately entering open exhibitions and random competitions. I used to get stressed about pending shows and possible logistical conflicts for my artwork. I used to watch the calendar in cheap anticipation that my art would be accepted somewhere or somewhere else. Thiswhere and Thatwhere would be looked up on the map and I would feel the excitement at an email arriving followed by the depression of the inevitable rejection. I used to be harnessed to the great Art machine of promise and opportunity and slave to the machinations of galleries across the world.
The cataloguing stopped when I realised the phoneyness of it all. I woke up and realised that I did not need to be selling myself short and throwing bad money after good, after bad after good… after bad… after good. I started to curate rather than crawl. I started to find like-minded artists rich in spirit and determination. With these people we have formed communities, collectives, and collaborations. We enhance, nurture, and foster as we create our way across the globe. We work outside the system using social media and word of mouth. We work outside of lists and files. We have no agenda, structure, or body to answer to. We make our own rules and our own music; we dance to our own tune.
We are Art.