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The Connor Brothers let us in on their experience with failure and disappointment, where it took them, and what they learned from it

Words by words by Mike SNELLE & James GOLDING

In a social climate that practically forces us to present ourselves as high flying and perpetually motivated, it pays to be honest and open about our failures and how they affect us. It’s important to understand that failure doesn’t define us, but that it’s often a necessary part of a longer process, and almost always a learning experience. No strangers to adversity, artists Mike Snelle and James Golding (aka The Connor Brothers) talk us through the foils of their first big LA exhibition. EJ

This is it. We’ve made it. Our first overseas solo exhibition. LA too. More celebrities per square mile than anywhere on earth. They’ll all be there. Lady Gaga, The Hoff, Jake Gyllenhaal, Johnny Depp, Gary Barlow, Gary Coleman, Gary Oldman, Mel Gibson. Thinking about it, Gibson’s potentially an issue. Don’t want him getting pissed and saying anti semitic shit to Gyllenhaal, who I’m pretty sure is Jewish. Can’t wait to meet the Hoff though. I f*cking loved Knight Rider. We’ve invited everyone we know in LA. One confirmed and two maybes. On the upside the confirmed one is the manager of one of the world’s biggest artists. The rest of the guestlist is the gallery’s responsibility and they’ve promised it’s pretty impressive.

We sit outside a bar opposite the gallery which allows us to watch the queue which will imminently form. There are no paparazzi as yet. Should we tip them off ourselves? Is that how it works? Six o’clock comes and goes and nothing much happens. Nothing at all in fact. F*cking movies stars. Notoriously late. It’s a wonder films get made at all with their relaxed attitude towards punctuality. Twenty minutes later and although neither of us are saying it we’re both getting a little anxious. Now and again someone walks past the gallery and I try and Jedi mindf*ck them into going in. It’s half past and people should definitely be arriving by now. Have we got the right day? Are we at the right gallery? 

There is nothing more painful (except for all the things that are actually important and painful) than being in an empty gallery at your own opening. You have to drink warm, flat, champagne and look intently at your own paintings as if it’s the first time you’ve seen them. You pretend to read and reread labels as if they’re fascinating. Now and again you casually make out like you’re texting someone. Most of all though, you have to try and act as if you’re not completely embarrassed and entirely humiliated. As failures in the art world go – no-one attending your private view is pretty much the big one. Not only does nothing sell but people can’t even be f*cked to come. In short, it means you suck. At some point our artist manager friend appears and gives us a pitying shrug. Even the gallery owner (wearing a full length white fur coat and gurning pretty intensely) only stays for a few minutes. It’s his gallery for f*ck’s sake. ‘Shall we go?’ James asks an hour before it’s due to end. ‘I think that might be a good idea,’ our friend replies, sympathetically. 

A few days later we’re back in our old studio, a semi-derelict pub basement in Hackney with no natural light and a serious damp problem. Our LA trip is already funny. We’re not sure how we’ll pay the rent this month but nevertheless the trip was worth it. In some ways it couldn’t have been more worth it. If it had been moderately successful it would also have quickly become incredibly boring. We’d have never talked about it again. Because we’d failed so spectacularly, recounting it to each other will entertain us for years. It was every bit as entertaining as if it had been a spectacular success. Maybe more so. 

Success and failure are relative, and most of the time it’s entirely unhelpful to think in those terms. It’s often through our mistakes that we learn the most, and chasing success can easily become an insatiable appetite for a kind of external validation that will never be satisfied. We never started The Connor Brothers with the goal of being successful. We never really thought about failure either. We did it because it would make a great story. For us maybe that’s what success means – doing something that in the book that is our lives will make an entertaining chapter. James used to be a heroin addict. I’ve been psychotic on multiple occasions and occasionally suicidal. We’ve both been financially successful and completely broke. We’ve ‘succeeded’ and ‘failed’ in countless ways on myriad occasions. But it was never really about that for us. For us success is not about what happens to you but how you tell the story. 

Six years after our first LA exhibition we had another one. This time there was a queue. Celebrities attended. Paparazzi came. We sold everything. I got to meet the Hoff (very disappointing. Nothing like Michael Knight). Was the successful version better than the failed one? Not really. They were both pretty funny.

@connorbrothersofficial