Last week, the photographer Alec Soth opened “Advice for Young Artists,” his fifth exhibition with Sean Kelly gallery and the result of Soth’s visits to twenty-five undergraduate art programs between 2022 and 2024. The resulting pictures are interior studies, still lifes and self-portraits, all of them capturing some strange or hilarious aspect of art school. There’s a book version that I recommend, too, but if you’re in New York, you should go see the show. There isn’t any advice, but there are many little details to these photographs that are better in larger format. Observer recently caught up with Soth to hear more about the project.
Your book version of this exhibition opens with a sticky note: “Who Is This Book For?” May I ask that question, and also ask about the origins of the sticky notes that run throughout them (e.g., “Cliche OK”)?
I’m a fan of notes and marginalia. A little scribble gives a glimpse into the mind of its maker. While editing this new project, I found myself liking the look of these Post-It notes next to the pictures. Along with the bright colors, there was something about the writing that conveyed the spirit of the work. Like koans, they are simultaneously simplistic and cryptic. The first Post-It (“Who is This Book For?”) could be answered in different ways. I like that it can be a place for the owner to write her name or for me to sign my own. There isn’t a right answer.
What did you learn about these twenty-five undergraduate art programs generally as part of your broad survey?
Whether or not I was at a prestigious Ivy League school or a small regional art program, what mattered to me was the beginner’s spirit. Rather than try to investigate or analyze these schools, I was just hoping to be in proximity of this energy. I can’t really speak to the state of undergraduate education today. I have no doubt there are many financial and bureaucratic problems. But wherever I’m around beginning art students, I feel more optimistic and energized.
This project contains as many studios and still-life models as it does art students. What attracts you to the environments found in art schools?
An art studio is like a sandbox for grown-ups; it’s an invitation to play. When I first entered these spaces, I would just observe them. But in time, I started building my own still lifes and sand castles. In some ways this project was an excuse to pretend I was an art student again.
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The book also contains a self-interview that implies that you don’t have much specific advice for young artists. Did you ever learn from any advice you received when you were a young artist yourself?
I’ve spent a lot of time trying to remember my time as a young artist. When it comes to advice, I always draw a blank! What I remember were the details: the smell of pipe tobacco on my high school painting teacher, the way my college photography professor reclined on a couch while critiquing work. These details are linked to the general feeling of my world expanding. Advice seemingly didn’t play much of a role in this feeling. What mattered was the energy of the environment. That’s what I’m trying to communicate in these pictures.
To what extent is youth an asset to an artist?
Literal youth is less of an asset than the spirit of being a beginner. I’ve met many people who’ve returned to school later in life who embody this ‘youthful’ spirit. Youth has its physical perks, of course, but life experience is also hugely valuable.
This project was inspired by Walker Evans’ late career Polaroids taken at universities. How would you compare the photographs in this show to his? Do they have anything in common?
I love those pictures so much, but it’s also connected to my understanding of his biography, which is very different than mine. When Evans discovered the Polaroid, he was an elderly alcoholic living on the fumes of his early creative success. As a consequence, there’s a desperation in that work that’s not in mine. But I nonetheless connect with his hunger to revitalize his creative juices by being around young people.
The title of this book and exhibition is going to draw a lot of folks actually looking for advice. Do you think it’s possible for them to learn something from this body of work?
Yes, as long as learning isn’t defined as something verbal and concise. I remember going to a concert by the experimental composer John Zorn when I was young. It felt like a huge learning experience that I still carry with me, but I’d struggle to translate the lesson into words. If I did, it would probably be as simple and cryptic as one of those Post-It notes.
