The rejection letter is commonplace for most of us in the Arts, and for that matter Academia. We compete in an ever-expanding market, with an ever-contracting supply. The stuff we produce is marginally quantifiable and highly speculative; as artists can take many positions with vastly different levels of cultural esteem, acceptance, or even understanding – and as academics, educators or researchers we are phantasms to laypeople, and subjects for dissection by peer-review and collegial probing by the anointed. Our job, my job is to be creative, but not ‘creative’ like the team that came up with, “I’m cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs!” or the Manhattan Project, or is it? As Artist-Academics we are obligated to find in the world a mode of expression both new and fresh, but fitting within the ‘norms’ or normative forces of hegemonic institutionalization present in keeping a paying gig at the university.

So, as I have defined my job—i.e., make creative research (a.k.a. art), find esteem for it, and keep it understandable by peers, both interdisciplinary and intergenerational—as difficult. Now imagine you have to quantify and qualify this job in the form of multiple-page documents, slides, CDs, DVDs, copy laser copies, letters of reference, websites, word of mouth, and so. One could do a continual hustle just in the documentation and explanation of all the creation and academic protocols, not mention actually making art or teaching. And the reaction, after all this sound and fury, is what? A letter; nice on bond or laid paper with thoughtful logo, neatly typed, and signed by hand—preferably in blue. Maybe I am trying to find the Art in rejection, or at least the professionalism, implying a level of respect, a nod to the time and effort on one’s part in putting all this shit together, proof of your humanity, or at least tangibility—you have an address, on the earth. Now we have another form, the e-mail rejection. It is fast, clean, better than the phone call, no need to hear the faux cheer and understanding, and doesn’t cost your institution the 44¢ of the letter. E-mail is nicely informal, an extra level of coolness in a business filled with ice, coated in the mostly fictional face of creative fertility, academic rigor, and warm nurturing education. We are in just that, business, slow, arty farty, warm and fuzzy, business, so bring on the e-mail rejections just make sure they contain at least a few emoticons. And for my part I will just make a .pdf head shot, and put my artist talk on Youtube and just forward links to everyone on the committees in massive cc’ed e-mail myself.