How and Why to Title Your Work
November 3, 2008
You Don’t Make Friends With Salad. Well-titled photograph by the excellent Romy Owens. Click here to visit Romy’s Flickr stream.
Julia Kirt, the director of the Oklahoma Visual Arts Coalition, published a post today about labelling your work when you deliver it to a gallery. Snip:
I recently organized an exhibition with 18 artists in it. Several pieces had no name on the back, much less a title or contact information. Of those pieces, a few were delivered when I was not in the office, so could easily have not known which was which.
I had a similar experience in 2003 when I was an intern at the Center for Contemporary Arts in Santa Fe. We were mounting a fundraising show called Inside [8*3], an open call for works less than 8 inches on a side. We had hundreds. Can you guess how many of those pieces were called Untitled? Answer: waaay too many. We even had a few mixups in which buyers got incorrect pieces delivered to them because the works of art were indistinguishable on paper. This brings me to the crux of today’s post.
Title Your Work
Please, do this. “Untitled” is a cop-out, unless you have created a work that is intentionally formal (that is, concerned mainly with forms), and/or you wish for the piece to reflect as little context as possible. For my part, I’m incapable of making paintings that don’t reference visual culture in a thousand little ways, so I might as well create titles that provide additional content.
(I began actively titling my work under the instruction of Martin Facey at the University of New Mexico. It was one of the lessons that stuck.)
Another reason not to rest on “Untitled” is that it makes your work harder to distinguish and identify. As Julia mentioned above, it can be headache-inducing for gallery workers as well (and you want those people on your good side). Imagine you’ve just delivered 20 paintings to a gallery for a solo show. They have twenty different prices, but they’re all called “Untitled: oil on canvas.” It would be difficult enough for the gallery staff to properly identify your work, not to mention audiences at large.
Note: A good solution to this is to provide your gallery with a detailed inventory including thumbnails. I’ll be talking about this in more detail at an upcoming OVAC workshop; see note below.
How To Title Your Work
Language is a frequent trigger of my creative process. In my character-based work, I may start with a name and put a face to it, or vice versa. I keep a file containing my favorite idioms, and another for the almost-correct-but-mistranslated-sounding advertisements that appear in my email spam. Maybe I’ll latch onto a song lyric or movie line. Sometimes I’ll be working on a painting, and an appropriate phrase will float to the surface of my consciousness. All these can become titles.
If coming up with titles is difficult for you, here are some suggestions for semi-random word generators.
Reader’s Digest or any newspaper or magazine. Pick a column. Read the last word of each line in that column. Choose a sequence of 3-5 words that sound interesting. ex. “Teaches how they sip.” “Working love had most empathic.”
Babelfish. The AltaVista Babelfish translator is a great source of slightly innacurate language. Begin with a common phrase, such as “All roads lead to Rome.” Send it through the translator multiple times through multiple languages. I had it translated to Russian, back to English, to Japanese, to English again, to French, then Greek, back to English. “Action of all streets to Rome” is what came out.
Channel surfing. Flip through channels on the boob tube. Write down the first word that you hear each time you turn to a new channel. Repeat as needed.
Diceware and the Beale List. Roll 5d6 (or one six-sided die five times) and write down the six numbers that come up. Repeat two more times, or more if you like. You will have three five-digit numbers. Each of these numbers corresponds to a word on the Beale list. (This is an excellent method for generating memorable but hard-to-break passwords.) ex. “Noun walls fauna.” “Feels bozo spire.”
Place names. This is how I created the characters of Normal, OK. Use an atlas or actual road signs. ex. Pernell Foster, Guthrie Perkins Cushing, Stillwater Hennessey.
Your birthdate and a book. Say your birthday is April 4 1967. (Mine isn’t.) Grab any book off any shelf. Turn to page 4, look at the fourth line, and note the first, ninth, sixth and seventh words. ex. “Writing as is uncertain.” “Worthy now as I.” Modify this as you see fit, by matching the digits of your birthdate to chapters, pages, lines, or words.
Speaking of books. Look at your bookshelf. Read one word from each consecutive book title, three to five in a row. ex. “Dawn to Modern Ambassador.” “Name Visual Working Basics.” “Geek Garlic Housekeeping.” “Sylvia Companion of Insects.”
Phone book acronyms. Open the phone book and choose the first name you see (first or last). Write words that begin with each letter of that name. ex. “Paul” becomes “Please Accept Understanding Limes.”
Wikiquote. Use a quote as is, or for extra fun, switch the words around.
The Internet Anagram Server. Begin with a name or phrase, then send it through the anagram generator. For a more concise result, I set the maximum number of words to no more than three, and the minimum number of letters to three or four. Here is such a result for “All roads lead to Rome.” That’s right, 654 anagrams. That’s why I leave this up to a computer. Amoral aloe toddlers, anyone?
Go ye and title.
UPDATE. You can find some more colorful phrases at this page detailing the animal naming scheme for various versions of Ubuntu (a popular distribution of the Linux operating system).
Related: I’m going to be giving a talk about organizing one’s art inventory on November 22. It’s part of OVAC’s workshop series called A.S.K. (Artist’s Survival Kit). The Business of Art 101 will be at the Edmond Public Library. Visit OVAC’s site to register.
I recently attended an OVAC workshop on building your portfolio, and it was a great experience. I came away feeling energized, motivated, and well-informed. Most of these workshops are only $15 for non-OVAC members! You can’t not go.
Phoebe Gloeckner Knows Bodies
April 19, 2008
As I mentioned earlier this week, I admire the way Phoebe Gloeckner depicts the human figure (particularly the female form). After doing some more research, I learned that she is also a medical illustrator. Have a look at these haunting, virtuosic images. (Notabene: these are anatomically explicit. You have been warned.)
Read more about Gloeckner in this interview about cartooning on the PBS website, or straight from the horse’s mouth in Diary of a Teenage Girl.
Snip from the interview, in which Gloeckner talks about how she teaches art students:
…the classes change from semester to semester, but no matter the topic, the basic principle underlying my “method” of teaching (developed in just two years) is that a properly prepared artist/creator must simply know everything. Not just how to draw, but how to see. Not just how to use a computer program, but what the word “penultimate” means. And the shape and orientation of a goat’s pupil. And where Kentucky and Chile are, at least approximately. The only way to know everything is to learn how to think, how to ask questions, how to navigate the world. Students must learn how to teach themselves to use new tools, how to talk to unfamiliar people, and basically how to be brave.
The Animal School - Short Video
April 13, 2008
Raising Small Souls presents The Animal School, a short video parable about how different people are good at different things. I bet this will resonate with a lot of artists out there.
At various times during my education, I fluctuated between excelling academically and coming dangerously close to flunking out all together. Looking back, I realize that the difference between my two states of achievement was whether or not I decided to be a part of the system. It has become valuable to me to understand that participating in the system (or status quo, or common agenda) is optional. The greatest power I have is the power to say yes …or no. I’m glad I learned that lesson early.
The Wordpress Automatic Upgrade Plugin Works!
March 31, 2008
For those of you about to rock WordPress v. 2.5, try this.
It came recommended by Cory Miller, who also designed this theme.
Practical Economic Advice for Creative Types
February 22, 2008
Writer John Scalzi recently posted a list of Unasked-For (but really, who is he trying to kid, we’re constantly asking for this stuff) Advice on how to survive in the writing business. Most of his recommendations could easily fit under the umbrella of advice for artists, freelancers, and heck, people. I can’t stress enough how good this post is (click here to read).
Two items really resonated with me.
1. The Big Cities are not the alpha and omega of the economic world. Why? Because we have the internet. And phones, and faxes, and FedEx. Save yourself a poo-load of living expenses by moving to oh, say, Oklahoma.
2. Make a saving throw against The Shiny. In other words, don’t be stupid with your money.
I have big student loans to pay off. I’m totally okay with that, it was worth it. The loans give me a low credit rating. An interesting side benefit to this condition is that I almost never get credit card offers in the mail. There is a certain peace in knowing that no one will lend me money. I have no choice but to live within my means (or pretty close to it).
So You’re Thinking of Going to Graduate School
November 24, 2007
…to get your MFA. Great! Do it. The time and expense are worth it. You’ll never get that level of instruction and uninterrupted study time outside of school. It’s a fabulous way to spend two to three years of your life.
Because nobody asked for it, here’s my list of MFA-application tips, skewed toward my experience studying painting and illustration.
Ask yourself why you’re going back to school. Is it because your parents think you should? Is it because your friends have graduate degrees and you don’t? I decided I needed graduate school after a certain disastrous series of paintings. I looked at my pile of failure and realized I needed to learn how to paint. Knowing that going in was a huge help. It reminded me to seek out the instruction I needed to become a better artist.
How are you choosing your school? Unless you’re interested in prestigious teaching positions or curatorships, a school’s reputation means bupkis. For the love of Pete, do not choose a school because Matthew Barney went there.
Browse the websites of the schools you’re considering. (Or visit them in person if possible.) Does the student and faculty work resonate with you? Is it of good quality? Would you feel good about having those artists as your peers? Look the school up on MySpace! What do students have to say about the programs and faculty? If you have questions before applying, can you get in touch with any faculty? Do they return your emails or calls?
Look at what classes the school offers. (Most schools offer some semblance of a course catalog online.) Is there a curriculum that meets your needs? If you want to study something specific, say, Fiber Arts, will you be able to get that instruction? Keep in mind that “Fine Arts” programs sometimes end up as dumping grounds for students that don’t fit in to more specialized programs. It’s a good sign when an art school offers more than just “Art.” Keep in mind that as a student, you are like a customer. You are in charge of your education, so make sure you get what you need. For me, that meant a lot of independent study and course substitution. So you’re an administrative headache. So what?
Now for the application process. Hint: If the school is still requiring slide carousels rather than digital portfolios, say no thanks. It’s a good indication they won’t be meeting what are now basic technological needs such as wifi, ethernet in dorms, digital projectors for presentations, digital cameras for you to borrow, and so on.
There is no way you can anticipate what the application review committee will or won’t like. Don’t overthink it. Simply put your best foot, and your best work, forward. If you need to have your portfolio photographed, it’s worth having it done professionally. A high-resolution digital portfolio is something you’ll be able to use for years.
When you get to school, get to know your professors. They’re there to help you. Sure, they’re busy. You have a right to some of their time, so insist on it. What if they’re not talkative enough at critiques? Ask them for more specific feedback about your work. If you don’t get along with a certain teacher, maybe you shouldn’t take any more of their classes. (Or maybe you should.) Figure out which faculty members return phone calls, answer emails, show up to meetings. If you’re having trouble getting something done administration-wise, the best thing to do is just show up in person. Show up to a class you want into. Show up to office hours for the prof you’d like to meet. The same advice goes for your peers. No student is an island — your fellow students are there to help you learn as well.
Okay, critiques suck, but you have to go to them. It’s your job to help them not suck. Ask specific questions, offer constructive criticism. Don’t fall back on “That’s nice, keep going,” or, “That just doesn’t work — for me.” If there’s something nobody’s saying, make it your job to say that. Do it without being an asshole.
If you know me personally, you know that I have big issues with art school and how it’s operated in America today. Here’s my argument in a nutshell: It is way way too easy to bullshit your way through art school. Try it — grab a canvas, dump bodily fluids all over it, lay it on the floor and do an interpretive dance to the recorded sounds of your Uncle Moe snoring. They will. Eat. It. Up. Any monkey can pour a bucket of paint onto a canvas and say, yay, I’m done! It’s a lot more challenging to actually make something. Rise to that challenge.
Prepare yourself for being surrounded by Wankers. (If you are already a Wanker, congratulations. You’ll fit right in.) Rise above it.
Avoiding the Wanker Effect is very simple. Do the work. Do work that your hero would be proud of. (When I was in college, I realized that if I wasn’t making paintings that were as good as a single panel of Arkham Asylum, I was kidding myself.) Good quality work speaks louder than any late-night coffeeshop conversation, any ironic haircut, any cute scarf, any act of Wankerism. If you don’t achieve that quality right away, derr, keep trying. That’s what school is for. Our reach is farther than our grasp.
Your education is what you make of it. No matter where you go to school, if you put in the hours and the passion, you’ll come away a better artist and a better person.
Thanks for listening.
I’d like to hear from you. If you’ve been through grad school, what tips can you share for people about to take the plunge? If you’re thinking of applying, do you have more questions? Let’s have ‘em.