Art is most definitely a product of the physical world - it involves stuff we can touch, see, smell, hear and even taste - and in manipulating our senses through this stuff, art is experienced in our heads and in our hearts. Creating a website, digitising what we do - isn't that losing an essential quality of our work? Why should artists have websites? The simple answer is that you need a website for your audience. They will expect it. Because... ...Stories matter As consumers, we are becoming more and more discerning. We care how things are made, where they come from, and how they reflect our values. We are concerned with provenance as consumers, and we deal with provenance instinctively as artists. When people invest (with time or money) in your art, they are investing in you, too - and what they come away with (a painting, an experience) isn’t the whole story, is it? A website is a space for stories - stories told through still and moving images, words and sound. Your website can tell your story in a way that befits your practice: illustrate your artistic journey so far; share tales of inspiration; outline your values - state your manifesto; take daily snaps of a work in progress; video your work in motion, inhabited, from all angles; scan a new material, a sketch, a freshly mixed colour; gather research material for all to see; solicit feedback. In telling your story, you give a sense of the depth of your creativity and you provide a rich mix of material that could enthuse your audience - who will realise they are getting much more than an object or a one-off experience. ...Connections matter Indulge me and think of a website as a house, and the homepage as a doorway. People are reassured when they can attach a person to a place - not because they necessarily want to meet you straight away, but because they know where to find you when they do want to cross the threshold. They might gaze in at the window a few times, thinking ‘I’ll come back when I’ve got a bit more time’ or ‘I must remember to visit before Dad’s birthday’. They might brave it into the front room one day, for a better and deeper look at what you’re working on now (you might call this your shop-window). Their curiosity might take them into the kitchen, to find out what ingredients you’re cooking with and what utensils and appliances you have. They might head into the back room, your office, to find your contact details and your calendar. They might be so bold as to head up the stairs to the back bedroom, to pull open your plan chest and see sketches and machettes, and to root through the bin, finding stuff that didn’t work. They might move into the front bedroom to share your view out of the window, and ponder for awhile. I've laboured the analogy, but let's not let it get in the way: your website exposes you and your work, your way. It also allows your audience to examine that exposure, their way - and thus makes a basic connection between you both. A connection that can grow and develop over the time, but that’s rooted in a mutual interest in a collection of material. ...Process matters Artists are creatures of process - whether that’s getting lost in a palette mixing paints to find just the right hue, or hitting the streets to overhear conversations, or frequenting carboot sales to find old stuff - and sometimes a disruption to a process is a welcome thing. Asking: ‘How do I want people to see me and my work when they are in a separate space?’ can be an illuminating process in itself - a point of reflection on a method and a practice that can easily be buried in habit. Putting together a website is an opportunity to re-think how artwork and artist are presented in the public domain, but there’s more to it than that. The tools that you learn to use to manage your content and post updates could inform, extend or enhance your current processes of enquiry and creation, allowing something new and surprising to happen, or simply saving you time and effort. And believe it or not, our processes matter to our audiences, too - how many times have you been asked ‘how did you make that?’ or ‘where did that idea come from?’. ...Time matters Let’s face it - a website is pretty much always on. That’s on when you’re having breakfast, getting showered, in the studio, at the drawing board, pegging out washing, cooking, sleeping, or on holiday (remember that?). You can’t always be around to present your work, but your website can. And it’s not just your time that matters - it’s your audience’s, too. Think of the shift-worker, who has to work every hour that your show is open, though he really loves puppetry; or the lady in Japan who can’t yet afford to visit your studio, but shares your enthusiasm for pinhole cameras. A website is a courtesy that allows your audience to experience some of your creativity at a time that suits them. Websites aren’t a stand-in for your work - how could they be? - but they can offer an experience generated from the same creativity that drives your work. Websites For Artists
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