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Jane Talks to ARTLURKER.
Jane wouldn’t tell us what she currently did or let us use her real name but said that her dream career would be either as an artist or a curator. Unfortunately she had confirmed our meeting to the wrong e-mail address the previous night and thus her arrival was unannounced; it was also before 9am. So, here she is trying to find out which if any she should concentrate on.
What seems to be the problem?
I Just don’t know what I want to be.
Well, from what you’ve told and shown us so far, you’re stuck between having a really good eye and little academic prowess and then that eye being transferred into your work but then you not having the enthusiasm or drive to make work.
Yes. I thought maybe I should teach
Those that can’t, teach.
It was a popular parody of an English televisual campaign to encourage people to become teachers. The slogan read “Those that can, teach”, which very quickly became “Those…
…who can’t, teach”
But when I think about it and I think about how good I’d feel…
Only because it’s something new, because you feel like you’re engaged, fresh and productive. You’d be happy because you can do it your own way and make a difference but only for a while, then it becomes boring.
But that’s kind of true of every job.
So make something that isn’t already a job yet. You could be an artist/curator in the very loosest possible sense. Make a bit of work, curate a few shows. Do shows in different places with artists you like, network, include your own work a bit. Just get well known through doing something like that. Make your own niche.
That sounds cool; I’d like to do something like that.
Writing always seemed an obvious thing for us. We’re surprised we didn’t think of it sooner.
Yes. Writing is really something that I could see you doing. Because to be honest, your drawings are indecisive and, well, that’s just it isn’t it.
We cook, we just love to make big pots of soup.
You’d make a good cooks in the army!
We wouldn’t mind that actually.
It’s the only place you wouldn’t piss people off, down below deck.
Out of sight out of mind. But we’d be respected, they wouldn’t fuck with us. We’d cook their meals, draw them pictures of naked chicks, write their love letters home.
The sensitive freak.
Not you, we meant ‘sensitive bitch’ instead of ‘freak’ but you… its complicated.