Writing an artist statement that hooks without jargon

01Why jargon hurts your practice

The contemporary art world has developed its own vocabulary that functions as a social code. Expressions such as "interrogating the limits of the medium", "deconstructing regimes of visibility" or "articulating a dialogic praxis" signal membership in the academic and institutional milieu. But they communicate nothing concrete about the artist's work.

International Art English, a term coined by Alix Rule and David Levine in a landmark article in 2012, designates this specific language found in gallery press releases, exhibition catalogues and artist statements. Their analysis showed that this language has become an automatism that masks thought rather than revealing it. When everyone uses the same words to describe completely different practices, those words cease to signify anything.

The collector reading your statement is not necessarily an art world insider. They may be a doctor, an entrepreneur, a teacher who loves art and wants to buy some. If your text is incomprehensible to this person, you lose them. And a lost collector is a lost sale. The curator sorting through hundreds of applications devotes a few seconds to each statement: if yours communicates nothing clear in thirty seconds, they move on.

02The three-movement structure

An effective statement answers three questions, in this order: what, how, why. What: what do you concretely do? How: what is your method, your materials, your process? Why: what intention drives your work, what meaning do you seek to produce?

Louise Bourgeois said of her work: "My art is a form of restoration in terms of my feelings to myself and to others." In one sentence, she answers all three questions. Art is a form of restoration (what and why), linked to her feelings towards herself and others (how, through emotional exploration). No jargon, no unnecessary abstraction, total clarity.

Ai Weiwei declares: "Everything is art. Everything is politics." This radical formula immediately situates his work at the intersection of aesthetics and engagement. The viewer understands in six words that every Weiwei work is both an artistic gesture and a political act.

You do not have to produce such a striking formula. But you can apply the same principle: say things simply, in your own words, in a language your mother or your best friend would understand. The strength of a statement does not reside in the complexity of the vocabulary but in the precision of the thought. A statement that says exactly what you do is always more powerful than one that tries to say what you believe the art world expects of you.

03Starting with the concrete

The first reflex to develop is describing what you do in tangible terms. If you are a painter, say so: I paint. If you work with wood, say so. If you assemble found objects, say so. This concrete anchor reassures the reader and gives them a mental image to which the rest of the text can attach.

Anish Kapoor, whose work is profoundly conceptual, describes his sculptures in physical terms before charging them with meaning: concave forms that absorb light, surfaces that seem to defy materiality. The physical description comes first, interpretation second.

Avoid starting with "my work explores" or "my practice questions". These formulas are so widespread they have become invisible. Start with an image, a scene, a description. "I paint urban landscapes at night, when the streets are empty and artificial lights transform facades into abstract surfaces." This opening is specific, visual, immediate. The reader sees something.

04Finding your voice, not the catalogue's

The statement is a personal text. It should sound like you, not like a press release. If you speak passionately about your work to a friend over coffee, you use a certain vocabulary, a certain rhythm, a certain energy. It is this voice that your statement must capture.

Kara Walker, whose work on American racial history is complex and charged, writes her statements with disarming frankness. She does not hide behind abstractions. She names things: slavery, violence, desire, shame. The strength of her texts comes from this frontal honesty. Similarly, the painter Peter Doig speaks about his paintings in simple terms: places, memories, visual sensations. He does not need philosophical concepts to lend weight to his paintings, and his texts are as accessible as his images are enigmatic.

The catalogue-tone trap affects even the most experienced artists. When you reread your statement and every sentence could appear in the press release of any other artist, that is the sign that you have lost your voice. Start from scratch, this time speaking to yourself, not to an imaginary jury.

A practical exercise: record yourself talking about your work for five minutes, unprepared, out loud, as if you were explaining to someone unfamiliar with contemporary art what you do and why. Then transcribe the recording. You will have a raw draft, full of repetitions and digressions, but also full of authentic formulations that you would never have written sitting before a blank screen.

05The right length

A statement is not an essay. For most uses, a text of 150 to 300 words suffices. This is the length required by most open calls, residencies and application files. A text that is too long suggests you have not done the necessary work of synthesis. A text that is too short may seem rushed.

The short version, one or two sentences, is useful for online biographies, platform profiles and email signatures. The long version, three or four paragraphs, is what you send with an application file. Ideally you should have both and adapt them to the context.

Olafur Eliasson, whose work is extremely elaborate on a conceptual level, maintains a main statement of a few paragraphs that remains accessible to a broad audience. Longer developments are reserved for catalogues and academic publications. This calibration is a model to follow.

The capacity for synthesis is a skill that can be trained. Start by writing everything you have to say, without worrying about length. Then cut. Eliminate repetitions, unnecessary adverbs, sentences that add nothing new. Every sentence in your statement must justify its presence. If you can remove it without the text losing meaning, remove it. This pruning work is thankless but it transforms an ordinary text into one that strikes.

06What to absolutely avoid

First mistake: talking about yourself in the third person. "The artist explores the tensions between nature and culture" sounds pretentious and creates an artificial distance. Speak in the first person. You are the artist, own your voice.

Second mistake: superlatives and grand words. "My work revolutionises" or "My practice transcends" are claims that only critics and time can validate. Stay humble in tone, ambitious in the work.

Third mistake: piling up references. Citing Deleuze, Foucault and Derrida in a 200-word statement does not prove your culture: it proves you are hiding behind authorities instead of speaking for yourself. If an intellectual reference genuinely nourishes your work, mention it briefly and explain how.

Fourth mistake: a life story in place of a statement. Your journey is interesting, but the statement is not about you: it is about your work. The biography is a separate document. Fifth mistake: using the conditional or the future tense. "My work will seek to" or "I would like to explore" give the impression that you have not yet started. Speak in the present tense, about what you do now, not about what you would like to do someday.

07Revising and getting feedback endlessly

A statement is never final. It evolves with your work. Plan to revise it at least once a year, and each time your work takes a new direction. Have it read by people who are not from the art world: if they understand what you do and why, your text works. Also have it read by an artist whose judgement you respect: they will detect approximations that the layperson will not see.

Gerhard Richter evolved his declarations about his work over decades, moving from provocative statements in his youth to texts of great sobriety in maturity. The statement is a living text, not a monument carved in marble. Marina Abramovic revises hers regularly to reflect the evolution of her thinking on performance and the body. Even the most established artists treat their statement as an ongoing project.

One final piece of advice: read the statements of artists you admire. Not to copy them, but to understand how they structure their thinking and find the right tone. Major gallery and museum websites generally publish their artists' statements. It is a free and invaluable resource.

08Your statement on Artedusa: the text that makes the difference

On Artedusa, your statement is one of the first things a collector reads after seeing your works. It is the text that transforms a curious glance into real interest, and real interest into a purchase. In a context where the collector discovers your work online, without being able to ask you questions in person, the statement fills the role you would fill yourself at an open studio or a private view: it builds the bridge between the work and the person looking at it. A clear, sincere and well-written statement is an investment in your career. Take the time to write it, and publish it on artedusa.com.