Help! I Hate... Networking

Every week, The Art Journal's resident artworld Agony Aunt Charlotte Jansen answers your questions about access, gatekeeping and sticky social problems

Have a burning question for her? Get in touch anonymously here.

I feel my peers are getting ahead through networking and socialising, while I prefer to stay in the studio. Am I sabotaging my own career?     

I was recently at a swanky dinner with some arty hoi polloi where I felt quite out of my depth. A question was being batted around about what people enjoyed doing outside the artworld – if they had a secret special skill or passion.

As a mother of three young children, my keenest ambition over the past eight years has been to finish a cup of coffee while it is still hot. As other guests began describing skydiving into the Grand Canyon and snowboarding in the Himalayas, my palms began to sweat. When the question landed with me, I gulped, before muttering something about picking up the stale croissants from Gail's bakery every week to drop them off at my local community food bank. Ha! Take that! No skills, but the trump card of philanthropy as self-development! However, I have since taken up Brazilian jiu-jitsu, perhaps as a result of that conversation. Next time I will be prepared. 

Purists would say that artists should devote themselves entirely to their practice without any outside noise. Some of the world’s most famous artists over the centuries have been infamous misanthropes or worked in almost total isolation: Degas was reclusive and, basically, a total dick, and even looked down on the people who posed for him to paint. Cezanne considered himself a social reject, and Yayoi Kusama has lived in a mental health facility since the 1970s, partly due to her anxiety and fear of social interaction. Many of these artists channelled their social anxieties and sense of place (or lack thereof) in the world into their art. I wonder, though, if the ‘social recluse’ artist stereotype has also been a clever kind of branding themselves, that in fact, heightened our intrigue in their creativity and notion of genius. They probably, in reality, have all had galleries, patrons and collectors in their corner, that they met at some point at a party.

I understand your need for solitude. I recently had a conversation about performative small talk with a well-known British painter, who confessed her loathing of artworld dinners and     . But these events, which can lead to sales or shows down the line, are, like it or not, a part of many people’s work in the artworld – artists included. Collectors, curators and gallerists are, at the end of the day, much like the rest of us – they need human connection. Arguably art realises its purpose that way, too.

What you describe feels like a perennial dilemma that many creative people face at some point. But here’s the truth: talent and networking are both, annoying as it may be, incontrovertibly valid currencies in the contemporary artworld. If you want your art to be seen, for people to connect to it or even acquire it, it’s almost impossible to do so by sheer devotion to the work alone. That’s not to say, of course, that people who actively socialise will be more successful, or that people who are quietly grafting in their studio with no exhibition in sight will necessarily fail. But emerging into the world every so often, to places where you feel comfortable, can benefit your career and your practice. 

People who attend events and talk to people (in real life or online) are more visible, and visibility in this day and age is important. I can relate to the desire to hide away and tell myself my practice will benefit from shutting the outside world out, but every so often when I do venture out I am reminded that there are good people out there, and that conversations can, occassionally, go beyond “so what are you working on at the moment?” Genuine connections – though they may be rare or few– can lead to amazing opportunities and spark ideas. 

So, are you sabotaging your career by staying in the studio? No. And forcing yourself out of a hermetic existence and becoming a relentless canape consumer might backfire spectacularly. That said, finding a way to make meaningful professional connections could help you. Think strategically – you don’t need to go to everything or charm everyone. Pick events carefully: places you want to go or where you might already know someone you feel good around. Don’t approach it as a frantic business opportunity, just go along, be yourself, and try to have proper conversations – they don’t have to be about art (or skydiving). Play to your strengths – you don’t have to be the one who shrieks the loudest in the room to stand out.

Let me be clear: the work you do in the studio is still the most important thing – endless socialising will never make up for real talent. But a brilliant artist who stays hidden forever in the studio is like a great chef who bakes exquisite cakes but scoffs them alone in the dark. Art is about sharing with others and letting people in, even if that makes you feel vulnerable. You have to believe in your work, or no one else will (I admit I may have paraphrased that line from Peppa Pig).