Writing Proposals
There comes a time when, as an artist, you start to look at showing work outside your normal circle. While submitting an existing work to an open call out might be relatively straight forward, some opportunities, like residencies, require you to make new work in situ. This usually requires the writing of a proposal. This can be a daunting prospect, especially if you think that your work is about improvisation, or something difficult to pin down.
So how best to go about this, sometimes daunting, process.
It’s usual for the curator / organisation to produce guidelines, and you should read them as they will outline what you’ll be expected to deliver as part of the over-arching project as well as what themes the project should be addressing. If there is a fee (and/or expenses) for the project, this should also be made clear. It’s important to read and understand these guidelines, but don’t look for ways to be excluded. They may like something that isn’t exactly on message. You will need to articulate why you think it fits, though.
I worked on a festival of site-specific art work for a few years and the submission form began with the seemingly simple question ‘what will you do?’ and encouraged a ‘non-artspeak’ answer. It never failed to amaze me that people would write about what their practice was about or how the work made people feel. Read the question again. It’s much simpler than that. The successful people usually wrote something equally simple. For example: ‘I propose to make six sculptures from found materials in the town square’, or ‘I propose to run workshops with local children exploring local history and, from these, create a performance for us to present in the library’, or ‘I will make a suite of paintings based on the plumbing in the gallery’. The point is that anyone reading the response will have a clear(ish) idea of what they’re likely to get from you. If you write — and I’ve seen this — ‘my work makes people feel relaxed and in touch with the natural world’, you are likely to get filed in the bin. There is almost certainly going to be a place for you to write in detail about the project further down the form.
It’s also important to not be over-ambitious. If you can point to experience you’ve had that gives credibility to your proposal, then mention it. If you have — for example — no experience running large workshops, then think hard about how you would deliver that. It’s good to take risks in your practice, but messing people about or letting down participants and funders is something worth avoiding.
Different projects require different kinds of submission, and I recommend following the guidelines to the letter. If you are told not to send a CV, then don’t. If they want three images, don’t send twelve. Word count is also important, and if a limit is specified, stick to it. I recommend that you get someone who can spell and understands grammar to check it, too. Proposals can be rejected on technicalities, especially if it’s a popular call-out.
Sometimes there will be a chance to ask questions, and don’t be afraid of getting in touch as there might be something not in the call-out that will be useful to you.
You might also want to propose, un-asked for, a project for a local museum, school, or library. The general principles hold true. Be clear about what you intend to do and outline your experience.
Good luck.
[Photo Credit: OCA student Dewald Botha]