Art Business Magazine http://www.culturenet.ca/artbusiness
 

The Accidental Networker:

right person, right place, right time.

 

by Tony Merino.

Mr. Merino works as a ceramic artist and freelance critic. He has published in journals in North America, Australia, and Europe. Mr. Merino is a cynic with a wry sense of humour. His writing is distinguished by an irreverence from which no doctrine is safe, and no taboo off limits. Mr. Merino holds an MFA from the U. of North Texas and BA from Augustana College Rock Island, Illinois.
There is a golf adage that states: "Golf is a game of luck, and the more I practice the luckier I get." This statement is equally applicable to the fine art of networking. This April, I attended the National Council of Educators for the Ceramic Arts (NCECA) annual conference in Las Vegas, Nevada. This event is a combination trade show, academic conference, and party. One of the great down sides of selecting ceramics as one's media of choice is that it requires a good deal of capital investment. This almost prohibits a struggling artist from doing really challenging work without either a trust found or a teaching position. The non- student attendees at this conference can be divided into two distinct groups: those who have teaching positions, and those who are trying to secure a teaching position. Unfortunately, I am in the latter group. For artists like me, the conference is a rather typical academic conference. The atmosphere is tantamount to the Westminster Dog show, in that young graduates show up, pedigrees in hand, primped and primed to parade before a vast collection of judges. This is done in an almost futile attempt to secure a coveted teaching position. Needless to say, this is not the environment in which I thrive.
 
As it turned out, though, the conference was quite profitable. I was able to secure several writing assignments, and a verbal invitation to do a residency in Lithuania. This invitation was due to some blind luck on my part. It was the result of a chain of events that precipitated with my being on the right elevator at the right time. This luck was contingent on my having spent the five years since my graduation working on my own art work, and establishing myself as a name in my field.
 
On the Wednesday morning of the conference, I ran across two fellow University of North Texas alumni, Douglas Grey and Dannon Rudy. After breakfast we split up and I decided to tag along in the elevator with Dannon. On the elevator with us was Rimas Vis Girda, an at-large director of the NCECA board (for those of you who are interested in my relationship with the board, please see my piece entitled, "NCECA and me"). We exchanged glances, and he said, "Hey, you write?" I answered "Yes, why?" Mr. Vis Girda was an artist in residence in Lithuania, and was responsible for putting together an exhibition of the work of four artists from that country. He was in desperate need of someone to review the exhibition, and asked me if I would be interested. I agreed but would need to get a ride to the exhibition, which was about 15 miles from the hotel at which the conference was being held. He told me he would see what he could do.
 
The exhibition was scheduled for that Thursday evening. He had made arrangements to drive the curator of the exhibition, Jolanta Lebednykiene, and one of the four artists, Rytas Jakimavicius to the opening on that Thursday evening. He made arrangements for me to tag along, which was my introduction to Ms. Lebednykiene, who was later to extend the invitation to me.
 
The opening was a great success, the work first rate. More importantly, we hit it off. Ms. Lebednykiene was quite taken with my view of the artwork and seemed quite impressed with me in general. Again, while the opportunity was by luck, my ability to capitalise on it was due to nothing other then my critical skills. No amount of schmoozing could replace the fact that I am good at what I do. By the end of the evening, I asked her if she would mind my sending her a portfolio and résumé. She said that she would love to see my work. By this time, I knew that she was somehow affiliated with the residency in which Mr. Vis Girda had participated, so I was rather anxious to have an invitation to send her photos of my work. Most program directors are swamped with slides and vitae. These are promptly filed and likely never looked at again. Hence, it is necessary to provide the program director with a face to go with the portfolio. Now this only assures that there is a small chance of a portfolio and vitae leading to something, but a small chance is better then none.
 
This first stage was the result of luck, and the fruits of my labour as a critic. The stage was a convergence of luck, and my many levels of audacity. Each year NCECA sponsors a cup sale to raise money for their scholarship found. I take part every year. One of the most frustrating aspects of this event is how conservative the great majority of the contributions are. There are precious few works that deal with the subject matter abstractly. There are even fewer pieces that are not constrained by a dogmatic craftsmanship. My reaction to this conservativeness, was to bring one of my most garishly made works. It was a paper thin porcelain "cup", actually a loosely formed cylinder with a painting on it. The clay separated, cracked, warped, and split. The central image, a naked woman, was painted with bright blues and vibrant yellows. It was easily the most sculptural piece in the sale. And it did not sell. Friday afternoon, I was walking around when one of the student assistants whisked me into a back room, pointed out the cup, and told me to take it home. So I wrapped the piece in several layers of bubble wrap, boxed it up and began to walk, dejected to my room. My aesthetic audacity had left me with a cup and nothing to do with it.
 
On my way to the room, I ran across Mr. Jakimavicius and Ms. Lebednykiene, and my layer of social audacity kicked in. When I saw them, I was tempted to show them my work but thought better of the idea. One of the worst things an artist can do is show someone his work when that person has no interest in seeing it. This concern was quashed when Ms. Lebednykiene, realising that there was a piece of my work in there, started to peal back the bubble wrap fumbling to find it. She was quite taken by it. So I offered it to her.
 
I was later chastised by Mr. Vis Girda for this action. He was upset. Trying to carry a clay piece that was quite fragile across the Atlantic, is no easy task. He was right on that account. I told him that if she did not want the hassle she could have turned it down, to which he replied that she was a very polite woman. Granted, it may have been an impolitic act, but my recollection was that Ms. Lebednykiene was eager to have it. This act was a result in large part to my being brought up in New York. As such, it never occurred to me that someone would think it was incredibly rude to decline a present. But then again, I have a hard time accepting that the etiquette of New York is not universal. I am growing to learn that the etiquette of New York is quite distinct from the rest to the world. After she took the cup, she was eager to see my slides. Leaving her the piece, I went up to my room, grabbed my materials, and met with her. Again, Ms. Lebednykiene was quite eager to look at my portfolio, and seemed interested in what I was doing. At that point she asked if I would be interested in working at her residency. To which, I said I would be honoured.
 
I do not know how real such an invitation is, it is my hope it is very real. I will of course follow up on it, after I completed the writing I said I would do. Earlier, I said that I was on the right elevator at the right time. Securing this invitation was also dependent on my strength as a critic, artist, and writer. I think it would be accurate to say that I was the right person, on the right elevator, at the right time.