The Finesse
Realizing when to pivot.
A Thesis
Submitted to the Graduate Department of Fine Arts
University of Pennsylvania
In Partial Fulfillment
of the requirements for the degree of
Master of Fine Arts
By
Glenn “Sonnie” Wooden Jr
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
May 2020
1. I’ve reached the point many artist, students, and friends told me about. I’m burned out and I’m not sure if I’ll ever make art again. It has been a debilitating, lonely, life changing experience getting to this point of my life. I watched my father lose it all, friends are dead, and I have been relatively financially shuttered for some time. It does not escape me that I entered a field that has such a low ceiling for making money and I feel foolish for switching my career to study art most days. I originally went to school to double major in business and engineering because I wanted to redesign the world. I wanted to be seen as a “futurist” or someone who was willing to bet on grand ideas. To somehow push humankind forward and that good design and art was able to reshape discourse and bring excitement into people’s lives. I wanted to effect people the same way those Frank Lloyd Wright and Mies Van Der Rohe homes showed me something spectacular in between our banal and underwhelming society. I’ve always hoped to do something that connected with people deeply.
2. “Being good in business is the most fascinating kind of art. Making money is art and working is art and good business is the best art.” Choosing art was my easiest way to becoming an entrepreneur, until I became an entrepreneur. It was also the easiest way for me to make the things I believed in and thought were important. It was my way to give myself therapy and cope with loss that I have experienced over this past decade. I never wanted to understand this trauma especially when so much of it could be great material for works of art. Then I have to ask myself, “how much do I sell childhood sexual abuse for?” I don’t think I can allow those two things to be in my head simultaneously. Many people told me not to worry about the money right now, but that’s like telling a poor person not to worry about money right now. That simply isn’t possible. It just makes me think I should have continued with finance this entire time.
3. The artist's responsibility to society springs from the artist's responsibility to him- or herself. Yet, I suppose I never felt like a real artist because I don’t subscribe to notions of the pure artist, who is for the people, righteous, and a “Marxist” individual. To be fair, I’m the opposite. I could care less about pretending to care for the “people,” unproductive assets, relational aesthetics, and galleries that take half of the profits. In many ways, I think my spirit is broken and I’ve become the villain I thought I wouldn’t become, yet it sadly feels right and so good.
4. I’m unsure how art can be seen as an asset, productive, or even a productive asset. To my understanding, being an artist and having a stockpile of art in your twenties is a complete liability. No one actually knows the real ROI on an art degree and many people refuse to ask if there is a return. The truth is, I don’t really think there is, so for me I need to diversify my portfolio. I have desires to own productive assets, pay off my student loan debt, pay even my grandchildren’s tuitions, houses where I actually want to live, and a BBJ for excitement. Is that what some artist may call a villain? What I’m trying to say is this, the art world game is too small for me and it seems to only go in circles. From people’s intimate relationships with everyday objects, to identity politics, to a weird hierarchy of trauma, to constant talks about capitalism, and to end at how we all should destroy the system and free everyone while simultaneously trying to get a show at MoMa of all places. To be fair, I’m tired and it seems like nothing ever happens besides people talking and showing things.
5. I always hear an artist start a sentence with, “I’ve been thinking about (blank)” as if anyone cares and begins to spew esoteric knowledge, and I for some reason hold my hands out begging for more. It’s all very confusing for me. I suppose I would like concrete advice rather than, “don’t give up.” Or “you’ll be poor but deal with it.” It’s as if everyone is scared to give real advice because if they do, their magic will rub off and everyone will know there’s a bunch of low paid artist “interning” to make that artist works. In the hopes to become their next art offspring. Sounds like a Ponzi scheme to me. That’s simply my way of saying, I’ve realized I want more than a show at MoMa.
6. What I want is much bigger than any show at an institution or a dinner with some rich person who wants to say they ate food with the artist. I feel more pathetic than ever. As an artist, I’ve always felt like I’m always screaming and hoping for a life raft. One day, someone will “discover” me and give me money for things I made, that hang on Upper East Side walls or some institution will buy my video piece. It is this weird fight between me getting out my ideas while somehow getting this far just to end up where I don’t want to be. I much rather be the owner.
7. I believe my father has always been an artist, carpenter, cinephile, and designer and me following in his footsteps in any capacity worries him considerably. My father asks me constantly, “what do you do?” and I always lie and say, “I’m a filmmaker,” because I know what he thinks a filmmaker is. He will then ask me, “what do you do when you graduate?” I lie to him again and say, “I can teach!” When I know deep down inside, I’ve never wanted to do that and do not see myself doing that for quite a while. It calms him down, which inevitably adds more pressure on me not to fail.
8. How do you win in art? Because, my one true goal is to “win.” My entire life has been predicated on winning. When I young I was 4 belts away from becoming a black belt in martial arts before pivoting to football, in football my team was ranked third in the entire country for our division and weight class, and by the time I finished high school I won a state championship in rowing. I feed off winning and I feed off keeping the score and as I’ve ventured further into this world of art, I am more confused and upset. I find myself in a “sport,” that says it is not one and one that does not keep score, when it actually does. I’m not very good with interpretation, I’m better with hardlines. If you score or cross the line first, you win. In this sport, no one knows why anything “wins,” but everyone knows there’s someone picking the “winner.”
9. The art world is nothing more than a secular religion where young disciples hope and pray that a little bit of their idol’s “magic” slips onto them in studio visits and they become the next prophet. For me, I’m a blue-collar libertine who needs structure and clear goals. I need a real community that’s willing to grind and not just mess around. I need mentors who will actually be there. More importantly, I want the money. The game I am attempting to play now is life and the only way to keep score in that game is money. No one cares about anyone’s views or ideas in the absence of capital. Even though I am tired, beaten down, and insecure now. I know that I have something not many people have, and I need to use that and my belief in the realpolitik to get where I need to go. I will rest for a bit and take my time to get back on my feet. I sacrificed nearly everything I had for this and I’m going to need to heal for a while and orient myself into the right direction. It does feel good to be finishing this part of the journey and to have a terminal degree to show my family they can do this too. It is a great honor and privilege. Yet, this is only the surface of what I have planned. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have all of the chess pieces I need. I’ve studied every match and trained with some of the best. I just want to build a world that’s safer for me.
10. As an artist and a kind of grio I’m always thinking about history and how our stories are constantly compounding. My family has a very southern mentality since they are originally from Mississippi and Arkansas. They are very hospitable and loyal people, but they were poor, had to hustle, and when rules weren’t in their favor, they found a way around it. When my family made it to Chicago some of them did hair and worked in factories, but others had jobs as pimps and drug dealers. The women sold the dope and the men sold the women and the dope. It was a family office in those days. I wanted to be like those powerful figures in my family, but I knew I wasn’t cut out for that line of work. I knew I was smarter or more risk averse. When I was in middle school my friend owned a candy store and we would go there to hang out and buy candy out quite often. This was sadly only during the summer and weekends. I learned later there was a market for this in school and a friend of mine was already selling different kinds of candy. I got my own, bagged them, undercut him, and it later failed because he had a better brand than me (more popular). Around 7th or 8th grade people started to get more curious and I had a supplier for something they needed, but their parents didn’t want to deal with it. Nor did the school know how to deal with it. I started selling condoms at an incredible mark up. My friends were making about 25 to 50 cent a bag for candy, while I was making $1 to $2 a condom depending on the market. Trojans with or without spermicidal lube cost $2, while Lifestyles were a dollar. I had a stronghold on the market, I was making really good money, but I eventually got caught. The school would contact my father and tell them what I was doing, and he surprisingly wasn’t mad at all. My father told the school I was, “trying to keep everyone was safe.” At that moment, I knew what I was and what I wasn’t. I’m not a businessman, but I am a business.