Titles are the eighth colour of the rainbow for me (and please bear in mind that the seventh colour is already an invention: There's No Such Thing As Indigo in the spectrum. But that's another blog for another day.)
Do you feel cheated when a piece of art appeals to you, but as you bend down to read the label on the wall, it gives you a bland 'untitled (2009)'?
If you know how irritating that feels, then please come in and share my love of titles! (If not, maybe find something else to read, or just look at the pictures...)
A title completes the artwork. Words add another dimension; they provoke thoughts that colours and textures cannot reach; words create additional connections. A simple descriptive title merely confirms or clarifies - the 'still life with oranges' assures you that this is indeed fruit; 'portrait of my father' explains the identity of the sitter - these titles align themselves with the artwork. The best ones, though, do not align but sit at an angle.
Rene Magritte was a master of the oblique title - his 'Therapist' is a man with a birdcage for a body; the inverted mermaid with a fish head and a woman's lower half is 'The collective invention'. Max Ernst gives us totemic figures with the explanation that 'Some animals are illiterate'.
Max Ernst, 1973
Damien Hirst's shark in formaldehyde is 'The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living'. Between the title and the tank there is space for your thought processes.
My artwork is not finished until it has been named.
Occasionally, when a piece resists, I ask for a little help from my friends, e.g. the box name 'of life & trials' was supplied by another artist. Sometimes, I change a title years later, because my relationship with the artwork has changed.
I like to use found objects and found images in my collages and assemblages, and I also use found words in my titles. I frequently borrow lines from songs - favourite tuneful wordsmiths are Laura Marling, Karine Polwart, Leonard Cohen, Suzanne Vega - but also keep (and frequently lose) notes of overheard conversations, common phrases & sayings, things that feel odd when taken out of context.
A few years ago, I borrowed the title of an Anne Tyler novel for one of my assemblages - 'if morning ever comes'. Later, I discovered that my favourite Tyler novel, 'Celestial Navigation', takes its name from Joseph Cornell's artwork. The link makes me happy.
Joseph Cornell, ca 1958
Of course it works the other way round as well - when the words inspire the imagery. Technically, that takes it into the realm of illustration, but who is to know afterwards what came first? A straightforward illustration again aligns itself with the image, providing confirmation, but the best ones add and extend.
Recently, I was asked to design the cover art for a CD of beautiful harp music by Merit Zloch, with the title 'Stand der Dinge', which usually means 'state of affairs' but I preferred to take it literally, i.e. the state of things. Merit suggested old-style fashion illustration as a starting point, and it all just fell easily into place from there. I chose the collage elements specifically for their Thingness, and suspended them on strings. (The album can be purchased from https://deutschtradshop.de/ )
If you have a favourite phrase or saying that you would like to donate to this artist, please use the form below to get in touch!
I can't promise that I'll use your words.
But I will try to take good care of them.