Bryan Wilson Julia Occupational Realism
Bryan Wilson Julia Occupational Realism
JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide
range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and
facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org.
Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at
https://about.jstor.org/terms
The MIT Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to TDR (1988-
)
'UPmasT
Figure 1. "This Is My Occupation." Occupy Wall Street takes the Brooklyn Bridge. New York,
October 2011. (Photo by Bianca Garcia.; courtesy of Getty Images)
Julia Bryan-Wilson
32
For Kinmont, it is important that his business function as a business-, it is not enough for him
to gesture symbolically towards the world of commerce by, say, printing up ironic letterhead or
opening a fake storefront. As a result, he partakes in what I have termed "occupational realism,"
in which the realm of waged labor (undertaken to sustain oneself economically) and the realm
of art (pursued, presumably, for reasons that might include financial gain, but that also exceed
financialization and have aesthetic, personal, and/or political motivations) collapse, becoming
indistinct or intentionally inverted. These are performances in which artists enact the normal,
obligatory tasks of work under the highly elastic rubric of "art." Here, the job becomes the art
and the art becomes the job.
"Performance as occupation" participates in the rising tide of discourse regarding the inter
connection of contingent labor, artistic value, and precarity. Precarity is one name given to the
effect of neoliberal economic conditions emergent in the wake of global financial upheaval,
recession, and the reorganization of employment to accommodate the spread of service, infor
mation, and knowledge work. It designates a pervasively unpredictable terrain of employment
within these conditions—work that is without health care benefits or other safety nets, under
paid, part-time, unprotected, short-term, unsustainable, risky.1 Debates about precarity—and
an insistence that artists belong to the newly emerging "precariat"—have been increasingly
taken up within contemporary art, as evidenced by exhibitions such as The Workers: Precarity/
Invisibility/Mobility, which opened in 2011 at the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art,
as well as anthologies like Critique of Creativity: Precarity, Subjectivity, and Resistance in the "Cre
ative Industries" (Raunig et al. 2011) and Are You Working Too Much? Post-Fordism, Precarity, and
the Labor of Art (Aranda et al. 2011).2 A group of cultural and educational laborers in London
organized themselves into the Precarious Workers Brigade, and they have mobilized to protest
arts funding cuts in the UK, the economic and power dynamics of unpaid internships, and other
issues; their posters ask questions such as "Do you freelance but don't feel free?"
The ascendance of the term "precarity" connects to research in the last few years by sociol
ogists such as Pascal Gielen, with his consideration of the congruence between artistic practices
and post-Fordist economies (Gielen 2010). But this alleged congruence has wider consequences,
as it underscores the need to understand artistic occupations temporally. As Pierre-Michel
Menger's 2006 report on artistic employment notes, "the gap is widening" between brief voca
tions and lifelong careers:
Flow do short-term assignments translate into worker flows and careers? From a labor sup
ply standpoint, one artist equals one long-term occupational prospect, especially when
employment relationships are long-term and careers are well patterned. But the gap is
1. For more on risk as constitutive of the "new modernity," see Beck (1992).
2. As this cluster of activity suggests, 2011 was an especially fertile year for conversations about precarity, the reces
sion, and artistic production. See also "Precarity: The People's Tribunal," convened at London's Institute of
Contemporary Arts in March 2011, and Hal Foster's article about Thomas Hirschhorns "precarious practice"
(2011:28-30).
Julia Bryan-Wilson is Associate Professor of modern and contemporary art in the History of Art o
o
o
Department at the University of California, Berkeley. Her research focuses on art and labor, conceptual c
TJ
to
art in the Americas, and feminist/queer theory. Her book, Art Workers: Radical Practice in the Vietnam a.
o
3
War Era, was published in 2009 by the University of California Press. She is a frequent contributor to £L
Artforum and has written for Art Bulletin, the Journal of Modern Craft, October, and many other sa
ro
As Menger's text implies, the temporal mentality of artistic labor (contingent, intermittent,
brief) has long resembled what is now called precarity. What happens, however, when art
ists—who, being popularly imagined as models of precarity avant la lettre as they do not earn
steady wages in any conventional
sense and have neither a secure
employer nor a consistent, sta
ble workplace—redefine art as
work out of necessity, motored
by a new urgency to "provide a
living for your family," to cite
Kinmont?
In addition, the language used to describe the current conditions of precarity draws heavily
upon the rhetoric of performance, as performance skates the line between live art and art that is
lived. According to theorist Paolo Virno, post-Fordist capitalism, with its emphasis on flexibil
ity, has led to an expansion of "living labor," such that not only all of our working hours, but our
very desires and thoughts have been absorbed into new regimes of work (2004:53). But Virno
sees a space of political possibility within what he calls "virtuosity," which "happens to the art
ist or performer who, after performing, does not leave a work of art behind" (in Gielen and
Lavaert 2009).' Within his formulation, artistic performance (which in some Marxist under
standings is posited as the paradigmatic outside, alternative, or other to deadening alienated
wage labor) as a form of activity that generates surplus value without an end product, has
become not a specialized case unique to performers, dancers, musicians, and the like, but has
G
ä
b 3. In her essay in this issue, Shannon Jackson usefully complicates Virno's définition of "virtuosity" through the lens
CQ
of theatre, dance, and music as opposed to visual art (Jackson 2012).
34
Indeed, the art-into-life experiments of the early 1960s—in which virtually any thing or
activity could be redefined as art (such as Alison Knowles's Make a Salad, 1962)—led to a flow
ering of late-20th-century artists declaring their jobs to be art.4 In 1966 Canadian artist duo
Iain and Ingrid Baxter formed N.E. Thing Co. Ltd. (they legally incorporated in 1969), and
until 1978 mimed the procedures of business, including printing up business cards, attend
ing conventions, and even sponsoring a junior hockey team. Though the Baxters aimed to
be a moneymaking enterprise, their satirical take on the trappings of corporate culture and
bureaucracy "did not yield the sustainable economic base, which they envisioned" (Lauder
2010:57-58). Similarly, Gordon Matta-Clark and Carol Goodden's New York City art project/
functioning restaurant Food, opened in 1971, was shuttered after two years because they could
not make it a viable business.
While some artists have pursued a corporate model, others have individually taken on tem
porary working-class identities. To list only a few: in Linda Mary Montano's Odd Jobs, 1973, the
artist announced her availability to do housework such as light hauling, cleaning cellars, inte
rior painting, or gardening. She did so in part to transform, mentally and affectively, the labor
she was already doing to make money. As she wrote, "I liked what I was doing when I called it
art" (Montano 1981:n.p.). After finding a nurse's dress in a thrift store, Montano offered herself
up for house calls to sick friends and printed cards that listed her skills and services, including
"massage, chicken soup, visits, temperature taking, and forehead holding, etc." The nurse outfit
not only functioned as an apparently visible confirmation of her abilities to perform these tasks,
it also lent some credibility to her capacities by acting as an authorizing uniform. Montano's
piece resonates with recent writings by Italian feminist Silvia Federici, who has discussed how
debates on precarity have under-theorized the role of women's reproductive and household
4. For an intelligent and comprehensive look at a wide range of artists (from Yves Klein to Kinmont) who explicitly »
engage with the commercial sphere, see Luis Jacob, Commerce by Artists (2011).
35
36
If most occupational realists are uninterested in putting their labor within the context of tra
ditional museum or gallery display, they are equally uninterested in what could be called the
atricality, if we use the basic definition of theatricality to mean "of or for the stage." Other
meanings of theatricality—that which is marked by pretense, extravagant exhibitionism, or arti
ficial emotion—further highlight what these artists are intentionally not doing. In fact, they
often do not want their customers or colleagues to witness or acknowledge what they do as
art—they want to vocationally "pass." Kinmont speculates that few of his customers are aware
that his bookselling is also an art project—and if they are aware, they are prone to take him
less seriously as a dealer. That is, though Virno's idea of the virtuoso demands an audience, that
audience is here complicated and fractured — there is a "work" audience which need not or
should not know that one of its workers has a value-added position as an artist, and then there is
the "art" audience.
Oakland-based artist Sean Fletcher commenced Becoming a Life Insurance Salesman as a Work
of Art (1996-2002) after he realized he could not survive on his art practice alone and had to
take a salaried job. As a relic from his performance illustrates, he signed, dated, and numbered
the back of some of his business cards, remaking them into a "limited edition" artwork. Fletcher
was fired when his bosses discovered that he was curating small shows in his office after hours,
thus violating some of the protocol of the business world by taking up space during non-work
hours, and inviting people into the office who had "no business" being there. These perfor
mances tell us something about the temporality of precarity: unlike a weekend inhabitation,
or a permanent condition, jobs exist for unpredictable time spans before people rotate away,
move on, are laid off, quit. Occupational realism as a performance mode unfolds in similarly
Ehrenreich was castigated by some critics for the overlay of elitism and arrogance in her
project. This is one major bone of contention with occupational realism, too, in its least nuanced
g iterations: it taps into longstanding downwardly mobile pretensions among educated, leftist art
ists and writers alike, pretensions that veer close to class condescension. As one review of Nickel
CS
£ and Dimed stated:
b
aq
2
3
38
However, some artists who take on the role of low-wage worker as art, like Montano, are less
interested in narrating economic pain than in transforming a range of "experiences"—always
admittedly limited or partial—in art. This is a persistent claim of self-aware class difference:
I know that what I'm doing right now is just a job, a job that occupies some of my time, but I have some
other identity that validates me. Educated artists might choose to be blue-collar workers with little
training, but that directional flow is usually one way, for when untrained workers decide to be
artists, they are often considered "outsiders"—like janitor Henry Darger, whose work is labeled
as "outsider art" to mark his distance from the usual classed routes of artistic training.
The privileges of re-employment are reserved for elite mobility, in which, for example, a
Wall Street broker decides to reskill as a baker, a downwardly mobile shift that is belied by the
cultural capital it trades in and
is correspondingly narrated
as laden with intangible psy SEAN FLETCHER
It has been argued that, within the dotcom boom of the late 1990s, artistic work with its vari
able hours and its adaptable working conditions became a model for "creative" informational
work like software development, and thus the critical or even antagonistic aspects of art were
subsumed into byproducts of what Richard Florida trumpeted as the lifestyle-as-product of the
"creative class" (2002). The optimistically heralded professionalization of art—as in Daniel
Pink's proclamation that the Master of Fine Arts degree "is the new MBA"—signaled not only
that (some) artists stood to make a lot of money doing design or content work, but that profes
sionals were being redefined as artists (2005:54). And what is for sale or highly valued in this
new professional creative class is something akin to professional style. At the cusp of the post
industrial turn, C. Wright Mills noted that what is on offer with the professionalization of work
has become a matter of attitude and affect—what he calls marketable personality (1951:241).
Importantly, "occupational realism" as a phrase has other meanings that resonate beyond
the art world, notably emerging in education, behavioral psychology, and sociology in the mid
1950s to discuss the structuration of class mobility and the relative lack of ease of moving from
one class position to another in the United States. This research, proliferating within academic
departments of social work, education, and counseling for the last few decades, discusses the dis
crepancy between levels of aspiration in adolescents or first-time job seekers and their "actual"
potential to achieve those aspirations (see Coffee 1957; Stokes 1977; Paap 1997). Within this
context, occupational realism means, to put it simplistically, how much someone's planned-for
job matches his/her eventual employment, how realistic one is about one's eventual occupation.
To desire to be a plumber when one "grows up," and to be enrolled in a vocational program
in which one would acquire plumbing skills is to have a firm sense of occupational realism. To
desire to be a world-famous astronaut when one is an economically disadvantaged student with
bad grades and test scores (which themselves gauge and measure class status) is to express a
low degree of occupational realism. In other words, how closely do your fantasies hew to your
already-determined class station, to your access to cultural capital, to the role you are expected
to play? According to these studies, for certain subjects (especially those that are low income,
nonwhite, and/or female), if those fantasies are mismatched, quality of life plummets when they
enter the workforce (Thomas 1976). To imagine a life other than the one you were handed is, in
these studies, to set yourself up for failure; it is better to aspire down than to aspire up.
Taking into account the strictures on class mobility, these studies emphasize that within
the US, movement out of one class and into another is infrequent and exceptional. They also
emphasize that the adult's question to the child, "What do you want to be?" is not only funda
mentally about identity (the molding of selfhood into the shapes disciplined by work) but also
about forecasting and projecting into the future—a future that is marked by labor structuration
along lines of class, race, and gender, and increasingly considered precarious. One influential
study from 1966, based on a national survey of children and teenagers in the US, The Adolescent
Experience, found strong gender-based differences between the boys and girls they studied in
terms of wishes for their future selves: "Girls do not show the same level of clear and active
realism in regards to mobility. The girl's future must in some sense remain ambiguous—it
depends so much on sexual realization and being chosen in marriage" (Douvan and Adelson
1966:78). This striking passage brings up complex, and painful, questions of volition and agency,
not least as it relates to gender. We must account for the discrepant meanings of "occupational
realism" here: for artists, it is about an educated choice to redefine remunerated labor within
In 2005, South Korean-born artist Bohyun Yoon circulated a postcard on which he declared
his upcoming performance piece, Two Year Soldier Project. As he explains, "As a male Korean cit
izen, I have to serve in the military for two years. At the time, I thought of myself as an art
ist, so I 'disguised' myself as a soldier for two years" (Yoon 201 la). Compulsory military service,
national obligation, and creative authorial intent collide as the artist declares himself to be
"undercover," a double agent in his own mind. Within this piece, he might appear to all observ
ers to be embodying the position of soldier, but his self-identification as an artist—one who
was physically and logistically unable to make material objects for a designated amount of
time—also distinctly imbues his military actions with extra value because he executes them as
an artistic performance.
That he embodies this work of soldiering differently (at a critical remove, perhaps, or con
versely, with fiercer concentration?) is somewhat implied, yet we would have no sense of this
difference if it were not for the postcard announcement's photograph of him wearing a hand
made transparent vinyl camouflage outfit, a glass helmet, and holding a blown-glass gun, an
outfit that he obviously did not don when actually on duty. "No opening reception, not open
to the public" states the text on the back of the postcard. The formal declaration of this artistic
"disguise" presumably fell away once he enlisted and, sans glass accessories, was indistinguish
able from the others with whom he trained and worked.
The bohemian déclassé drag of some artists (such as Sherk) as they dipped in and out of
the working-class labor force is distinct from the literal demands made upon Yoon. His status
change was beyond his control: his decision to reinvent his military service as part and parcel
of his art was in response to his lack of choice. Yoon has an MFA and was trained in the glass
department of the Rhode Island School of Design; he wanted to stay in the United States after
he graduated but in order to extend his visa, he had to return to South Korea and carry out his
conscripted military service. On his postcard (which was circulated to a US audience in advance
of his enlistment), Yoon shows himself at-the-ready, facing the viewer with his gun in hand, a
parodie stance made absurd by his transparent outfit that produces the opposite effect intended
by camouflage, as it renders him more visible, more vulnerable, more open, and more at risk.
His hand-blown glass gun and glass helmet, in addition to being nonfunctional, are likewise
fragile and might shatter with impact.
The glass helmet is the only material artifact from Yoon's two-year piece, aside from the
postcard, journal entries, and the two-year gap from 2005 to 2007 evident on his CV, which
otherwise shows a busy itinerary of group and solo exhibitions. During this period he was
engaged in his all-consuming performance without access to his own art-making tools or mate
rials. Interestingly, however, during his active service in the military, Yoon primarily worked as
a graphic designer—the same sort of job he might have had if he was supporting himself as
an artist invested in material forms of art making. At the same time, this graphic design work
was done under the scrutiny of the military with the constraints of their harsh schedule, and he
endured a significant amount of militaristic mental training.
Yoon's two-year piece also summons the idea of occupation as militaristically conquered
space—though for him, the space of occupation was not land, but his own head. He is now
working to minimize or work through the experience, to expel from his mind the procedures of
the training. He has described himself while in the military as both occupied and preoccupied:
distracted by his soldiering from his normal thoughts. It is a preoccupation that now requires
Still, I use the contested word realism to signal that performances of this sort are not just
"acts" (though they are suffused with potential irony). At the same time, neither are they about
unmediated access to anything that might be called "real"—itself always fugitive, phantasmatic,
Disguise
Disguisemyself
myselfas aas
soldier
a soldier
for two
foryears
two years
purpose;
purpose;national
national
duty
duty
Figures 7 (above)
(above) &
& 8.
8. location; information not available
Bohyun Yoon, Two
Two 'No opening
"No reception.
opening reception.
'Not open to public.
Year Soldier Project,
Project, "Still on Sunday, Monday, and National holidays.
2005—2007. Postcard
Postcard image ascription;
Transparent Camouflage, 2003
announcement, front
front sewn vinyl, blown glass, toys
photo by Bohyun Yoon
and back. (Courtesy
(Courtesy of
of
fowarding address (parents): Seo-cho 4 dong, Acrovista A-703, Seo-cho ku, Seoul, 137-992, Korea, tel. fax. 82-2-593-6438
Bohyun Yoon)
Beyond theatre or art historical notions of Realism as a critical style, these artists are "real
ists" in the sense that they are insistent about the overlap between realms of art and work.
Artists like Kinmont or Yoon or Fletcher effectively function as booksellers or soldiers or life
insurance salesmen. They perform their duties within the actual sites of bookselling and soldier
ing and salesmanship. In addition, they are employed within the discourses of state-enforced,
economically prescribed self-identifications, in which everything from census forms to visa
applications ask us to name our occupation (meaning business, or legitimate wage work) with a
singular word or phrase. What position do you fill? What space do you regularly occupy? These
artists undermine the singular grammar demanded by these questions, as they perform roles as
both artists and as wage earners. For artists whose employment becomes their art, their lives are
dually occupied, toggling across the slash: bookseller/artist, artist/military man. Yet for Yoon,
who did not have the privileges associated with educated white males with US citizenship in a
time without a military draft, the question of "choice" proves much more volatile.
What does it mean to be at work but not occupied—that is, not fully devoting one's atten
tions to the task at hand? Is this partial focus assumed to be the condition of most contempo
rary work? How might art also speak to this space of mental elsewhereness? The idea that "art
is a calling," demanding full presence, increasingly does not hold up, as plenty of art is out
sourced to others, is made during states of boredom, or even explicitly thematizes distraction,
and much "work" is performed with vigilant, intense, or reverent focus. In the past few years,
ci
when I have mentioned the likes of Ukeles, Yoon, or Fletcher in my classes, my students want X!
M
a
o
s
F
. For more on Ukeles, see Molesworth (2000) and Jackson (2011).
43
My students have been frustrated by their lack of access to the thought-processes involved,
especially irritated at how Yoon and Fletcher have corrupted what is romanticized as an activ
ity apart from the sphere of work—art—and turned it into a form of toil that seems to offer
no emotive surplus, no aesthetic dimension, no moral lesson. This frustration points to the
stubborn residue that clings to authorially invested artistic activity; the intent of the artist
still carries disproportional significance. When precarious work—flexible, contingent, part
time—closely resembles artistic labor, at least outwardly, does the main distinction between art
and work remain an internal thought process, a feeling, an attitude? How "committed" are these
artists to inhabiting their roles, how much control or manipulation of their emotional life do
they exercise? Their performances succeed, in part, to the degree that they disappear, at least to
us witnesses, into the contours of their labor. There is no way to measure how the free-floating
frame of "performance" might have an impact on the "work" these artists did: they had no script
to follow, no character to play, no narrative to trace.
But the ultimately unknowable interiorities of Ukeles, Yoon, and Fletcher are of less concern
than the question of uncertain valuation. These performances insist that there might be some
separation of intent from activity, some division of labor in which the activity's registration as
art remains distinct from that of work—that is, in the realm of affect. What is more, the actions
of these artists are granted an extra sheen of value; the added component of artistic labor, how
ever immaterial, implies that the self-reflexive performer might have a different level of aware
ness about their work than does the ordinary worker. For his part, Fletcher always considered
himself fully both an artist and a salesman. He did his job during the day, but was also preoccu
pied with his after-hours art career. For Yoon, during his two years, even when in uniform, his
answer to the question "What do you do?" varied depending on who was asking (Yoon 201 lb).
These definitions and identifications are messy, partial, and contingent.
Hito Steyerl's recent take on art and labor places occupations in opposition to waged work:
"An occupation keeps people busy instead of giving them paid labor" (Steyerl 2011). But for
some artists, occupations are routes into artistic value and meaning, as well as to remuneration.
I asked Kinmont if he feels differently doing his bookselling job knowing that it is art. He is a
perfect case study since he had worked as a bookseller previous to Sometimes a nicer sculpture, but
in that previous employment he had not considered the work an art piece. He responded:
I think I do, absolutely, think about it differently. It has to do with how you chose to
define art. For me, art is about an awareness of the creation of meaning. Deciding that it
is art is a tool or a device by which to see how it is meaningful to me. It helps me align
my priorities. Sometimes it is still drudgery or tedious—the backbreaking, dirty, boring
work of packing up books—but it is also meaningful to me to work in the area of cultural
preservation and to contribute to my family. (Kinmont 2011)
Crucial here, again, is the fact that attentiveness trumps Duchampian nomination; this is not
a one-time act, but an ongoing process of consideration paid to conditions that already exist.
Kinmont has described this as a relatively taxing method of working, akin to bilingualism, since
the languages and codes of one value structure are so different from the other and he finds him
self constantly translating from one to another.
c
m
44
"THIS IS MY OCCUPATION," reads a sign held aloft at an Occupy Wall Street demonstra
tion in fall 2011 —bringing together in one terse phrase multiple definitions of employment,
work, claiming territory, political strategy, and affective absorption. In 1953, art critic Clement
Greenberg wrote an essay in which he considered the crisis of culture and speculated about its
future, given the rapid economic changes around him in the postwar context:
The only solution that I can conceive of under these conditions is to shift its center of
gravity away from leisure and place it squarely in the middle of work. Am I suggesting
something whose outcome could no longer be called culture, since it would not depend
on leisure? I am suggesting something whose outcome I cannot imagine. (1961:32)
Greenberg's prophecy rings true as the unimaginable relocation of culture to work continues to
unfold in the 21st century. Certainly what I am calling occupational realism will shift in relation
to this new focus on occupation and intention—as with Greenberg, I find myself at a loss to
imagine what exactly that might look like. But let me conclude by offering some thoughts based
on my historical understanding of a time when art also went to work.
If we are witnessing a whole-scale economic shift whose only known contour is its very
unmappability, its instability and uncertainty, in which workers of all kinds, diverse in their class
status and in their various degrees of cultural capital, survive on the barest of margins, with no
sense of security or futurity, then it could be that artists engaged in occupational realism prefig
ured the collapsing categories of work, performance, and art in precarious times. The Occupy
movement has spawned several artists' groups interested in foregrounding their own under
paid and undervalued labor as art workers, including an Arts and Labor contingent of Occupy
Wall Street and an artists' bloc at Occupy San Francisco. Many in these groups are reclaim
ing the phrase "art worker"—-a term that has been deployed at various moments in the his
tory of the avantgarde, beginning with Russian constructivism, the 1930s Artists' Union that
emerged when artists were employed through the US Works Progress Administration, and the
Art Workers' Coalition, founded in 1969 in New York City. Those affiliated with the AWC
called themselves "art workers," a term I used for the title of my 2009 book Art Workers-. Radical
Practice in the Vietnam War Era as a historical nod to these artists' own self-descriptors. By no
means did I take it as an untroubled term. It had uneven currency within its own moment,
as my book elaborates, and was fraught with ambivalence, failure, and contradiction (Bryan
Wilson 2009).
So I am curious, if not vaguely mystified, by how the category of the "art worker" is being
resurrected. Does its most recent resurfacing mean that artists are interested in reclaiming the
phrase with all of its blind spots and fault lines? What the Occupy movement's canny focus
on the "99%" has offered us is a way of finding alliances without recourse to categories such
as "the working class." The Occupy movement has made clear that "workers" are no longer a
coherent category, and hence to organize around any single notion of employment, given its
instabilities and multiplicities, makes little sense. A slogan that declares "artists are the 99%"
speaks to the economic conditions of most artists, who often piece together part-time work to
pay the rent, teach in adjunct positions, have mountains of student debt from their art degree,
and lack health insurance.
But I want to think hard about what the phrase "art worker" means, its inconsistencies and
its elisions. Is the reemergence of the term "art worker" a recognition of the pervasive blur
ring of art into labor, or is it an overly simplistic conflation of artist and worker, yoking those
two together unproblematically? If we can admit there is no such thing as one kind of "worker,"
then we need to account for the fact that who we call "artists" are likewise not a coherent cat
egory. We must keep in our focus the global art industry that maintains its connections to and
The word "workers" in the name [of the AWC] is a hopeful sign [...]. Suppose however
that the AWC were to declare something like "all power to the workers." In saying this
they would not need to be repeating the old slogans of art in the service of the revolu
tion which seems to have produced neither good art nor any revolution at all. Rather they
might be saying that art belongs to all who can grasp it and draw energy from it. What
this means in practical terms I don't know... The cry "all power to the workers" means
just that, "all power to all workers." It does not mean that the oyster dredgers control
blue points and the artists control acrylics. It means that energy glows as evenly as possi
ble from each segment of society to all others; and when that happens the moral equiva
lent to privilege will have been found. (Smithsonian Institute 1969)
Though this letter strikes a hopeful note, the AWC never managed to bridge its concerns with
the inequalities outside of the art world. The Art Workers' Coalition, in its lifespan from 1969
1971, did accomplish many things, including an incisive institutional critique that helped illu
minate connections between artistic industries, the military, and corporations. They agitated for
more oversight in the art world in a time, then as now, with vast inequalities and a star system
that rewards some and not others. But the AWC should function less as a triumphant moment
than as a cautionary tale: it fell apart in part because it did not offer a sustainable analysis of the
co-articulation of race, class, and gender. The art workers circa 1970 were never fully able to
recognize this key fact: artists often have, and use, many class-based privileges that many other
workers do not have, not the least of which is access to cultural capital.
How have these precarious times changed how we conceive of both art and work? If we
take our cue from Virno, we might speculate that our notion of performance has undergone
vast transformations that bleed from the cultural to the economic. Yet the contingencies upon
which the idea of "artist" or "performer" rests have always in part been based on class privilege,
an aspect that is underexplored in Virno. I might go so far as to say that "artists" are not "work
ers," which is precisely what makes occupational realism legible as a form of practice—there is
a gap between these nonidentical categories wide enough that their bridging feels surprising. If
art were already work, or work were already art, these projects that redefine art as work and vice
versa would simply fail to register as inversions, as conceptual frames, or as critiques. For many
people, working and struggling to survive financially makes creating art less possible; at the
same time, work contains within it the possibilities to envision new sorts of relations. As Kathi
Weeks puts it, "Work is not only a site of exploitation, domination, and antagonism, but also
where we might find the power to create alternatives on the basis of subordinated knowledges,
resistant subjectivities, and emergent models of organization" (2011:29). Potentially, the freshly
minted art workers of the Occupy movement will not fixate on getting a bigger piece of the art
market pie, and instead will continue to instigate a robust, subtle, and complex analysis of eco
nomic conditions attuned to larger struggles against inequality. This is a moment to talk openly
about privilege, debt, economic justice, and art as a space of imaginative possibility that has the
Ö
0
t/> potential to transform how we think about work, and performance.
1
É
M
6. Gregory Sholette (2011) has also written extensively on the "dark matter" and unacknowledged labor that motors
the art industry.
46
Abbing, Hans. 2002. Why Are Artists Poor? The Exceptional Economy of the Arts. Amsterdam: Amsterdam
University Press.
Aranda, Julieta, Brian Kuan Wood, and Anton Vidokle, eds. 2011. Are You Working Too Much? Post-Fordism,
Precarity, and the Labor of Art. E-flux journal. Berlin: Sternberg Press.
Beck, Ulrich. 1992. Risk Society: Towards a New Modernity. Trans. Mark Ritter. London: Sage Publications.
Beuys, Joseph. 1993 .Joseph Beuys in America: Energy Plan for the Western Man. Writings by and Interviews with
the Artist. Ed. Carin Kuoni. New York: Four Walls Eight Windows.
Bryan-Wilson, Julia. 2009. Art Workers: Radical Practice in the Vietnam War Era. Berkeley: University of
California Press.
Bryan-Wilson, Julia. 2012. "Dirty Commerce: Art Work and Sex Work since the 1970s." differences: A
Journal of Feminist Cultural Studies 23, 2:71-112.
Clark, T.J. 1973. Image of the People: Gustave Courbet and the 1848 Revolution. London: Thames and Hudson.
Coffee, James Madison. 1957. "Occupational Realism: An Analysis of Factors Influencing Realism in the
Occupational Planning of High School Seniors." PhD diss. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Graduate School
of Education.
Crawford, Matthew. 2009. Shop Class as Soulcraft: An Inquiry into the Value of Work. New York: Penguin Press.
Cullen, Deborah. 2008.Arte *■ Vida: Actions by Artists of the Americas 1960-2000. New York: El Museo del
Barrio.
Douvan, Elizabeth, and Joseph Adelson. 1966. The Adolescent Experience. New York: Wley.
Ehrenreich, Barbara. 2 001. Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America. New York: Metropolitan
Books.
Federici, Silvia. 2008. "Precarious Labor: A Feminist Viewpoint." In the Middle of a Whirlwind (Whirlwinds),
6 June, http://inthemiddleofthewhirlwind.wordpress.com/precarious-labor-a-feminist-viewpoint/
(3 July 2011).
Florida, Richard. 2002. The Rise of the Creative Class: And Haw It's Transforming Work, Leisure, Community and
Everyday Life. New York: Basic Books.
Foster, Hal. 2011. "Crossing Over: The Precarious Practice of Thomas Hirschhorn." The Berlin Journal 20
(Spring):28-30.
Gielen, Pascal. 2010. The Murmuring of the Artistic Multitude: Global Art, Memory and Post-Fordism.
Amsterdam: Valiz.
Gielen, Pascal, and Sonja Lavaert. 2009. "The Dismeasure of Art: An Interview with Paolo Virno."
Stichting Kunst en Openbare Ruimte, Open 17. http://classic.skor.nl/article-4178-nl.htmlPlangsen
(10 December 2011).
Greenberg, Clement. 1961. "The Plight of Culture." In Art and Culture: Critical Essays, 22-34. Boston, MA:
Beacon Press.
Jackson, Shannon. 2011. Social Works: Performing Art, Supporting Publics. London: Routledge.
Jackson, Shannon. 2012. "Just-in-Time: Performance and the Aesthetics of Precarity." TDR 56, 4
(T216): 10-31.
Lauder, Adam. 2010. "N.E. Thing Co. Ltd.: From Soft Sell to Soft Skills." In Byproduct: On the Excess of
Embedded Art Practices, ed. Marisa Jahn, 54—58. Toronto: YYZ Books.
Menger, Pierre-Michel. 2006. "Artistic Labor Markets: Contingent Work, Excess Supply and Occupational
Risk Management." In Handbook of the Economics of Art and Culture Vol. 1, eds. Victor A. Ginsburgh and
David Throsby, 765-811. Amsterdam: North-Holland/Elsevier Science. &
n>
»
55'
3
Molesworth, Helen. 2000. "House Work and Art Work." October 92 (Spring):71-97.
Montano, Linda Mary. 1981. Art in Everyday Life. Los Angeles, CA: Astro Artz.
Paap, Kirsten. 1997. "Working Class Women, Occupational Realism, and Occupational Choice: Beliefs
and Knowledge of Working-Class Women at First Workplace Entrance." MS thesis, University of
Wisconsin.
Pink, Daniel. 2005. A Whole New Mind: Moving from the Information Age to the Conceptual Age. New York:
Riverhead Books.
Raunig, Gerald, Gene Ray, and Ulf Wuggenig, eds. 2011. Critique of Creativity: Precarity, Subjectivity, and
Resistance in the "Creative Industries." London: MayFly Books.
Sholette, Gregory. 2011. Dark Matter: Art and Politics in the Age of Enterprise Culture. New York: Pluto Press.
Smithsonian Institute. 1969. Unsigned letter, in Lucy R. Lippard papers, 1940s-2006, bulk 1968-1990.
Washington, DC: Archives of American Art, Smithsonian Institute.
Steyerl, Hito. 2011. "Art as Occupation: Claims for an Autonomy of Life." e-fluxjournal 30, 12. www.e-flux
.com/journal/art-as-occupation-claims-for-an-autonomy-of-life-12 (5 January 2012).
Stokes, Leland. 1977. "Effects of Key Figures on the Occupational Realism of Black Male Inner-City High
School Seniors." PhD diss. New York: Fordham University.
Styan, J.L. 1981. Modern Dra?na in Theory and Practice, Vol. 1: Realis?n and Naturalism. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Thomas, Mark J. 1976. "Realism and Socioeconomic Status (SES) of Occupational Plans of Low SES Black
and White Male Adolescents." Jozirnal of Counseling Psychology 23, 1:46-49.
Virno, Paolo. 2004.^4 Grammar of the Mtiltitude: For an Analysis of Contemporary Forms of Life. Trans. Isabella
Bertoletti, James Cascaito, and Andrea Casson. Los Angeles, CA: Semiotext(e).
Weeks, Kathi. 2011. The Problem with Work: Feminism, Marxism, Antimork Politics, and Postwork bnaginaries.
Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
fe
ra
48