I am by no means an expert: I completed my first public art project in 2018, installed my second in March 2022, and am currently trying to decide whether or not to pursue a third. While I have not found public art particularly lucrative or easy, it has certainly been a catalyst for growth and learning. The following are some things I’ve learned about dealing with the conceptual, emotional, and logistical challenges of public art—things I wish I’d learned sooner and hope not to forget.
YOU WANT IT: Pursuing a Public Art Project
Join the Roster
Many cities maintain a “roster” of artists who have been pre-approved as suitable candidates for public art commissions, and if you are even tentatively interested in public art, there’s no reason not to apply for a roster. Roster inclusion doesn’t guarantee anything, but there’s a good chance you’ll receive targeted announcements about upcoming opportunities, if you’re a good fit for a project with a tight deadline, you might be specifically recruited to apply.
Perform a SWOT Analysis
SWOT is a classic career development exercise in which you take inventory of your strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats. Tailoring the same analysis to your public art dreams can guide you towards projects that are a good fit for your approach and your circumstances. As an example, here’s what my own SWOT might have looked like just prior to my first public art project:
Strengths: designs integrating nature and culture, interviews and historical research, community engagement, thinking of things that could go wrong, willing to work hard and learn new processes
Weaknesses: not prior public art experience, not much $ to put in up front, no car, not physically able to wrestle large/heavy items, getting hung up thinking of things that could go wrong, no studio space of my own
Opportunities: Seattle has many public art opportunities, inclusion in roster of artists pre-approved for public art proposals, potential to use studio space at work during off hours, friends good at moving large/heavy items
Threats: liability issues, public art has to last at least 30 years, outdoor work is vulnerable to weather and vandalism, public art would need to fit around my FT work schedule, working outdoors in unpredictable conditions
Do the Math
Not all commissioning agencies set public artists up for success. Read the call for application carefully: if they are asking for the moon but their budget would barely cover a Moon Pie, it’s probably not worth your time to even apply.
Budget ≠ Profit
A big budget is seductive; it can be hard not to fantasize about seeing that money in your very own checking account. But even when a project is big and shiny and successful, the artist only ever pockets a percentage of the budget—at best. Bigger budgets come with bigger potential for profit, but also for loss.
I Spy
Notice every piece of public art and really look at it. Consider what you do and don’t like about it, of course, but don’t stop there: how is it made? What materials and techniques were chosen and why? How is it held up or down? What has worked well? What hasn’t? How old is it? Does it look its age? Then get just as curious about things that aren’t artwork: how do flagpoles work? How are drinking fountains attached to the ground? What kind of aggregate crumbles the worst, and what kind of internal structure can you see inside? Some of this research will be only of passing interest, but other items will be invaluable when it comes time to make your own work.
YOU’VE GOT IT: Woo hoo! You’ve been commissioned! Now what?
Big Words and Fine Print
Read the contract. Read ALL the words in the contract. Have someone else read the contract (in Washington I had all my contracts reviewed by WA Lawyers for the Arts at $20 per consult; your state probably has something similar). Follow up on any terms or concepts you don’t fully understand. Ask about anything you don’t totally agree with—but realize that many large agencies will not make changes to their contracts. Make a list of any actions you need to take to remain in compliance with the contract that are not part of your usual M.0. (For example, giving the agency a change of address if you move).
Prepare for Pushback
Even once you’ve gotten the commission, you will still experience rejection. Some project stakeholders may feel that the project is being imposed on them; they might express this openly (“This is a waste of money.”) or more subtly, by being slow to respond or difficult to work with. Some people will be onboard with the general idea but disagree with your design decisions. Don’t take any of this personally! Listen with respect and an open mind, but remember that it may not be possible to make everyone happy.
Let Go a Little
Public art is not your art. Compared with your usual, personal creative process, the process of creating public art will probably not feel the same or flow in the same way. I trick myself “public art” out loud, but the term I use in my head is “public project.” For me, “project” bears fewer assumptions and expectations than “art.”
YOU’VE GOT TO DO IT: Making a Big Job More Manageable
Preload the Paperwork
Set up all the paperwork for the entire project with blanks to be filled in as you go, and list each form or deliverable on a timeline or calendar, adjusting as needed. I find it’s easier to jump through bureaucratic hoops if I get them nicely lined up before they’re set on fire.
Start From the End
In language learning, there’s a great tool called backchaining; when you’re stumbling over a complicated word or phrase, you sound it out syllable by syllable starting from the end of the word. For example, one of the neighborhoods where I used to teach in Tokyo was called Seisekisakuragaoka: phew! Backchaining would break this snarl of sounds down like so:
In actuality, I didn’t think of this approach until it was too late for my most recent project. By starting at the beginning, I was constantly creating problems and then having to solve them. I ended up with sculptures too big to fit on a standard pallet and a crate too big to fit out my studio door or in through the site door! Backchaining my decisions would have saved me time, money, and stress.
YOU WANT IT: Pursuing a Public Art Project
Join the Roster
Many cities maintain a “roster” of artists who have been pre-approved as suitable candidates for public art commissions, and if you are even tentatively interested in public art, there’s no reason not to apply for a roster. Roster inclusion doesn’t guarantee anything, but there’s a good chance you’ll receive targeted announcements about upcoming opportunities, if you’re a good fit for a project with a tight deadline, you might be specifically recruited to apply.
Perform a SWOT Analysis
SWOT is a classic career development exercise in which you take inventory of your strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats. Tailoring the same analysis to your public art dreams can guide you towards projects that are a good fit for your approach and your circumstances. As an example, here’s what my own SWOT might have looked like just prior to my first public art project:
Strengths: designs integrating nature and culture, interviews and historical research, community engagement, thinking of things that could go wrong, willing to work hard and learn new processes
Weaknesses: not prior public art experience, not much $ to put in up front, no car, not physically able to wrestle large/heavy items, getting hung up thinking of things that could go wrong, no studio space of my own
Opportunities: Seattle has many public art opportunities, inclusion in roster of artists pre-approved for public art proposals, potential to use studio space at work during off hours, friends good at moving large/heavy items
Threats: liability issues, public art has to last at least 30 years, outdoor work is vulnerable to weather and vandalism, public art would need to fit around my FT work schedule, working outdoors in unpredictable conditions
Do the Math
Not all commissioning agencies set public artists up for success. Read the call for application carefully: if they are asking for the moon but their budget would barely cover a Moon Pie, it’s probably not worth your time to even apply.
Budget ≠ Profit
A big budget is seductive; it can be hard not to fantasize about seeing that money in your very own checking account. But even when a project is big and shiny and successful, the artist only ever pockets a percentage of the budget—at best. Bigger budgets come with bigger potential for profit, but also for loss.
I Spy
Notice every piece of public art and really look at it. Consider what you do and don’t like about it, of course, but don’t stop there: how is it made? What materials and techniques were chosen and why? How is it held up or down? What has worked well? What hasn’t? How old is it? Does it look its age? Then get just as curious about things that aren’t artwork: how do flagpoles work? How are drinking fountains attached to the ground? What kind of aggregate crumbles the worst, and what kind of internal structure can you see inside? Some of this research will be only of passing interest, but other items will be invaluable when it comes time to make your own work.
YOU’VE GOT IT: Woo hoo! You’ve been commissioned! Now what?
Big Words and Fine Print
Read the contract. Read ALL the words in the contract. Have someone else read the contract (in Washington I had all my contracts reviewed by WA Lawyers for the Arts at $20 per consult; your state probably has something similar). Follow up on any terms or concepts you don’t fully understand. Ask about anything you don’t totally agree with—but realize that many large agencies will not make changes to their contracts. Make a list of any actions you need to take to remain in compliance with the contract that are not part of your usual M.0. (For example, giving the agency a change of address if you move).
Prepare for Pushback
Even once you’ve gotten the commission, you will still experience rejection. Some project stakeholders may feel that the project is being imposed on them; they might express this openly (“This is a waste of money.”) or more subtly, by being slow to respond or difficult to work with. Some people will be onboard with the general idea but disagree with your design decisions. Don’t take any of this personally! Listen with respect and an open mind, but remember that it may not be possible to make everyone happy.
Let Go a Little
Public art is not your art. Compared with your usual, personal creative process, the process of creating public art will probably not feel the same or flow in the same way. I trick myself “public art” out loud, but the term I use in my head is “public project.” For me, “project” bears fewer assumptions and expectations than “art.”
YOU’VE GOT TO DO IT: Making a Big Job More Manageable
Preload the Paperwork
Set up all the paperwork for the entire project with blanks to be filled in as you go, and list each form or deliverable on a timeline or calendar, adjusting as needed. I find it’s easier to jump through bureaucratic hoops if I get them nicely lined up before they’re set on fire.
Start From the End
In language learning, there’s a great tool called backchaining; when you’re stumbling over a complicated word or phrase, you sound it out syllable by syllable starting from the end of the word. For example, one of the neighborhoods where I used to teach in Tokyo was called Seisekisakuragaoka: phew! Backchaining would break this snarl of sounds down like so:
- Oka
- Gaoka
- Ragaoka
- Kuragaoka
- And so on…
- The finished piece will be a wall sculpture mounted approximately ten feet off the ground (no need in the planning stage to get hung up on what the piece will look like).
- The wall is drywall, so the pieces will be screwed into drywall anchors.
- The activity of driving in drywall anchors and screwing brackets will be easier from a scissor lift than from a ladder: what size lift? Will it fit through the site door? Can it be delivered to the site?
- The installer will need to hold the piece while screwing it to the wall. What is the maximum size/weight that the person in the lift can manage at one time?
- The crate containing the work will come in through the door. What is the maximum size crate that will fit? Will it be carried? Wheeled on a pallet jack? How far apart are the pallet forks?
- The crate will arrive at the site on a truck. Is there room at the site for the truck? Does it have a lift gate? If not, how will the crate come off the truck?
- The crate will be shipped on a truck. Is there a standard dimension that will minimize shipping costs? Is there a maximum weight? Is it possible things will be stacked on top of the crate? In which orientation will the crate be loaded? Is it possible to construct runners on the bottom of the crate so it can be loaded in either direction?
- The crate will be loaded onto a shipping truck. Where will the truck park? What equipment will make the transfer? What if it’s raining?
- The crate will leave my studio through the barn door. What are the maximum dimensions? What equipment and assistance is needed? If using a forklift, are extenders or straps needed?
- And so on, all the way back to the initial design…
In actuality, I didn’t think of this approach until it was too late for my most recent project. By starting at the beginning, I was constantly creating problems and then having to solve them. I ended up with sculptures too big to fit on a standard pallet and a crate too big to fit out my studio door or in through the site door! Backchaining my decisions would have saved me time, money, and stress.
