Shannon Kennedy
Untitled (Cadet), 2001, video still.

The interview was conducted by Ilana Stanger of TheArtBiz.com.

I've been interested lately in asking artists when they "came out," so to speak, as artists. When did you decide that art was what you wanted to do?

Probably in high school. My mom bought my dad a camera and I got pretty interested in photography. I joined the yearbook staff and started taking pictures. I felt pretty quickly that this was what I wanted to do. I also had some self-esteem issues-- teenage girls always have a lot of them--and I think that part of the appeal for me with photography was that it was tricky technologically. It gave me a lot of self-respect to be able to use this thing that was difficult to learn. I didn't think of gender issues consciously at the time, but I was bound and determined to learn something that was perceived of as more of a boy's thing. I spent a lot of time taking pictures and learning how to print and work in a darkroom. I got really into it, but I thought I had to become a fashion photographer.

Did you go to an art college?

No, I took some photography classes but I've never had a formal art education. In college I had a few years where I stopped taking pictures because I was very intimidated by a professor. And then I took a workshop with Sally Mann. I had all these dark images in my head, and they were very scary to me. Sally Mann gave a great talk about having two different kinds of education: an emotional education and an intellectual education. Your emotional education is built of everything you've seen and experienced in life, and we create walls around our vulnerability to protect ourselves. She said something close to this: "In your daily life you need those walls to protect yourself, but in your artwork, that life preserver will drown you." Those words were so intense to me. I realized that the defense mechanisms that I developed to cope with being afraid of things or not wanting to deal with problems were keeping me from becoming an artist. I had a dream that night that I was standing in the middle of a room and I thought, "Ok, now I know exactly what I have to do." And that was it. I just knew that this what I had to do. I was about twenty.

I've given up a lot. I just totally dedicated myself to my work. I definitely had periods where I felt I just couldn't do it anymore--it Œs too hard and I'm always broke--but in general I just stick with it.

How did you end up in the workshop with Sally Mann?

I'd seen her work before and I really liked it, and I related to her photographs. I'd read some things she'd written and saw she was doing a workshop in Florida, so I asked my parents to help me and I went.

How did you make the leap from photography to video?

Well, I think there was always an element of motion in my photography. I always worked on series, so there would be 300 slightly different pictures of a drain or an arm or something. And that just lent itself to thinking about animation. I also got really sick. Eight years ago I was poisoned by darkroom chemicals and asbestos and that kind of put a damper on my career as a photographer. Video's great because there are no chemical processes involved. But I think that my work is very informed by photography. [ My videos] are almost like moving photos. There's no sort of plot line or real literal narrative, no sense of linear time.

How did you get your first show and the others that followed?

I got a grant from the McKnight foundation. After I met Sally Mann I thought, well, I'm going to apply for a grant. I'd had one group show or something crazy like that-- I don't know what I was thinking. But I got the grant. And after that I thought, Ok, maybe I'll try to get a show. I went to a gallery in Minneapolis and the guy looked at my stuff and he said, "alright." I did it with a friend since I was a little nervous to do it alone. And then it just kind of kept going from there.

I was in a show with three of my friends in a Minneapolis gallery called No Name and somebody from Spain came to the show and bought a whole bunch of our work. He had a very well known gallery in Barcelona, and a year later the gallery called and offered my friend and me a show. It all just came from there--taking advantage of opportunities leads you to more opportunities.

I've always been lucky with grants. That really helps, because you get a critical stamp of approval. The panelists see your work and they're from other cities and sometimes the grants bring people in and you meet different critics and curators. I met Carolyn [Shannon's art dealer] in 1995 or 96 and she has helped me in an extraordinary way. She really believed in what I was doing. I had a couple of people who were really supportive and believed in what I was doing and would tell other people about my work.

Did applying for grants require a lot of your time?

Yeah. It's a business. You're running a business. There's a difficult balance to maintain. You need to get in your studio and work and put your head down and not think about anything else until you get in that great space where you can fully understand your projects. But you also need to be always applying for grants, always sending stuff out and talking to people. It's tricky, It's hard.

Is there a difference in your workload now that you're represented?

Oh yeah. I don't have to do everything myself. I don't even tend to meet with people anymore. [My dealers] and two women (Plum Projects in New York) I've hired to manage a specific project will do the initial legwork--they'll show my work to people, and then if it gets far enough along I'll meet with the curator or gallerist. You have a buffer; you're kind of protected. That's if you have a good gallery. Sometimes a gallery can be not such a good thing and you have to choose really carefully what your dynamic is with the person, and if they really work for you, because they get 50% of what you sell. The gallery that represents me isn't just consigning work and selling it out of the gallery, they're managing my career. I talk to them every day. It's a very intense relationship.

You recently moved from Minneapolis to New York City. Do you think there's an inevitable pull to New York, or can you make it as an artist in other places in America?

I was trying to avoid it. I just knew I wanted to have a lot under my belt before I came to New York, so I wouldn't be struggling financially and to be recognized for my work. I was trying to go back and forth and my art dealers said, "Look, you gotta move here." I think they wanted to know that I was totally committed. Being totally committed meant moving to New York. It's very different being here than it is living in a smaller city. You're around the best people, the best galleries, the best artists. You're just constantly surrounded by people who are striving so much to achieve their vision.

You know, part of the art world is networking. You're at a party and you meet a critic from "Time Out New York" and it's just a totally different thing. If you get a review, it just means a lot more because it's so competitive. What I've noticed moving here is that people take you a lot more seriously A) if you have gallery representation and B) if you live in New York.

Do you support yourself on your work?

Yeah, I do. I haven't had a full-time job in eight years. But I've also been lucky, because I've had grants. This year I've had three grants, and they were large grants. My dealers sell my work, and if I'm totally broke every I'll take editing jobs. I do OK. I struggle, I definitely struggle and I'm on a really strict budget. But my dealers don't want me to have a full time job, because I'm not as accessible to them or producing as much work.

When you travel, who takes care of it?

The galleries or museums. Now I know that before I accept a project I have to negotiate a budget. Before if I got a show I was just so excited that I didn't care how I got there or how I paid for it. Now if someone calls I can write a budgetary proposal and say, "This is what the project will cost." That's a big change this year--I've started taking myself more seriously. I always did, but now it's on a totally different level. You have to ask institutions, or wherever you're showing, to help you, because projects become so expensive.

What would be your advice to recent grads or people looking to break into the art world?

Be willing to struggle. Have patience, and drive, and perseverance and dedication. Just keep going, even when it sucks. When it's hard and you hate it, just push through that. That's what I've done. Really, really push yourself with your work. When you think you're there and good and want to stop--don't. Keep going.

Have you hated your work before?

Totally. Or I just hated having to deal with art dealers. I have great art dealers now but that wasn't always the case. I've had bad dealers before.

The other really important thing is to surround yourself with people who are a really positive influence and believe in you. You need a really good support system. You can also try to meet with younger curators at museums and even interns at museums. Talk to them and ask for feedback--get a lot of feedback from people. Don't be afraid of criticism or failure. Failure is a huge part of it. It's a very important part of the puzzle. Try to succeed in not being afraid of failing and falling flat on your face and looking like an idiot. That's really key: learn how to deal with rejection. Learn to deal with it and not be pushed off the path.

You have to be willing to not have a really stable life financially. And you have to take yourself seriously, and project that you are professional. That wasn't something that I knew until I came here--the high level of competition. Everyone is so good and you're all competing for the same things. The more professional you can be, the better off you are.

This article was originally created for TheArtBiz.com. It appears on NYFA Interactive courtesy of the Abigail Rebecca Cohen Library.