SUSANA ALDANONDO

ARTIST STATEMENT

As it was somehow said to me during a critique:  "How sweet, out on the curb, well mannered, having fun, making beautiful art.  Honey, all you're doing is making beautiful art by the side of the road."

I can relate to the "beautiful" wild plant that very few notice growing, emerging and coming up in search for light through a crack in the barricade next to the construction machinery strategically placed on the cobblestone street where I paint.  

I thought of this very image when someone recently critiqued my work and downplayed with I do, and denigrated its 'beautiful' unexpected outcome.

"A beautiful painting," how fitting.  So beautiful, so bright.  So breathtaking to look at even in the "unacceptable" random studio setting.  However, how did the critic define beauty?  Did she use the term to denigrate my great work?  Beauty should never be the purpose of a work of art, or so the art world says.  There is so much more to say than beauty, so did she miss the point of my work and got stuck in the visual beauty of it, which I might add, I can't help it.  I could not aim to make ugly work, though these ugly and dark times may call for it and deserve that we make art that is just so.

I thought about how many times in life we must be like the wild plant making way for itself in an atmosphere of rigid, unwelcoming structures that won't move, won't allow, won't interpret us, won't make way for us, and really seek to have us desist.  

We must, even more so: persist, grow, emerge, defying the structure's inflexibility.

Does patiently waiting for our turn to flourish, become invisible for decades or desist just to keep the structure of the art world happy and at peace with itself really help anyone's growth?  Can suggesting that the outcome of any efforts made should be an "ugly" image really be the answer?

Heavy construction machinery surrounds me in my studio in the street.  

The machines echo the resistance to the unyielding art world we're faced with.                 

The scene may very well also mirror the immigrant experience of sacrifice and undervalued hard physical labor.  The wild plant stubbornly emerging from within the concrete barricade while turning a new leaf (anyway) might mirror that sacrifice and effort owned by women, by immigrants, and may I also say by all underrepresented artists. 

This studio setting reminds me that I am a work in progress.  It reminds me of my life as a woman and as an immigrant and of the many obstacles I have faced before I could even hold a paint brush in my hand and tell a story on the canvas.  

I also tell a story by painting here.  By being here.  I'm aware and defiant of the rigid art world.  

It turns out, this art world is not the one I thought it was, because I thought that it was  supposed to liberate.  Liberation is mindset in action: liberation only happens when we rid ourselves from the expectations of the world: that's exactly what I do here, too.

I must often defend the wall where I paint.  My being here stirs frustration in some people, like the critic I mention, who by the way at first wanted to come and join me in my space here...which I politely declined.  

However, I must highlight that my being here  brings joy to most people.

It takes courage to be here.

I'm proud of myself for being here.  I think of myself as a courageous woman.  I've often stood up of myself and for others, as it relates to art or to other important matters, at the risk of not being liked for it.  I'm very proud of this, too.

I'm proud of the beautiful art that I create here.  Creating the large beautiful work I make here is something I will always treasure.  

I'm exhausted of the pretentious titles and expectations from most institutions and most art professionals in this art world(s).  The pretenses demonstrate that they are out of touch with what art should really be and how it should celebrate individuality and courage and beauty.  This is my opinion, it has been my experience, as I have witnessed so many artists doing what is expected of them, many of whom will have long journeys in the shadows, doing things that are expected of them, and waiting patiently, because this is just how the art world operates.  It presents us with a long and difficult journey where we will most likely be excluded, anyway.

My work is about courage, it is about rebellion, individuality, and yes I think it is also about beauty.  Though not all artists are willing to address all four.   This is a highly competitive field, and if you are lucky enough you will not encounter any enemies, but that is unlikely if you are not here to please everyone, in my case I choose to take the risk and be me all the time.

I believe that art is about so many things that diverge from the critics and the people pulling the strings. I refuse to wear the strings.

The concrete barricades and cobblestone road remind me that most of the the structures that rule this industry are rigid and unyielding.  Yet,  if we care to look,  if we care to challenge that which is expected of us as artists, and  if we defy what the structure we all spiral around wants from us and halt it by being authentically ourselves, then maybe, we too, can emerge and grow in the midst of all this.  The structure that seeks to contain, exclude and diminish.  

What I see around me, may just be a singular facade inviting me to challenge the pretenses, and embrace simplicity, beauty, and individuality.  That may mean something different to other artists, this studio is it for me.

Everything I do is meant to oppose these dominant narratives that seek to put my efforts down and minimize what I as an artist can or cannot do, or what titles I must wear.  I've met incredible art professionals, and I have been privileged to know them and hear their input, yet I crave the simplicity of interaction I have with the public in my studio in the street.  I meet people who care for me, they offer their friendship, they offer advise, they share a cup of coffee with me, they bring me gloves when it is cold, or a snack, or a smile.  Nothing beats what I get in return for being here painting on the side of the road.  This wonderful road, that has brought into my life some of the most loyal, trust worthy people I have met in my life. 

It is in these interactions and in my intention that I find the so called beauty in my work.

The beauty that some say I make on the canvas is subjective, it is the unexpected outcome of my work.  Its true beauty lies in the triumph over tragedy, like the wild plant growing here.  I celebrate this triumph every day I am out here painting, I intertwine the visual expression on the canvas with the musical pieces I listen to while I paint and the emotion of the here and now in this special place where I paint.  When it comes to abstraction, my work is about color, and movement, and emotion: I don't need to look around, I don't abstract from anything but from within.  

My work is really about everything I do:  it is not just my painting, it is the location, it is the interactions.  It is about waking up early in the morning and showing up, with messy hair. With sleepy eyes.  It is all about the guts and intention that it takes to be here.  

I may make some people uncomfortable, and that's ok, that is also part of the beauty embedded within my work.

The more some put me down, the more I know I own this great work that I do and the intention becomes even more strongly aligned with it.

And no: it has not all been done before.  What I do is proof. 

I realize I am one of many, and yet I am not.