On the names of paintings

I get asked about this a lot.

I get asked this a lot: How do you come up with the names of your paintings?

I usually say that they just come to me, but the real answer is that I don’t have much to do with it. The paintings name themselves, and they just tell me what their name is.

I don’t always hear it at first. That’s because the painting starts small, thinly applied, not yet confident. Its voice is too small for me to hear. Partway through the process of unearthing the painting and exposing it to the world, its voice becomes less obstructed by the debris of artistic decisions. That’s when I’ll usually hear it say one word. Just one word, a word that maybe evokes the feeling I’m getting as the painting comes to life. But only one word — the rest is still too dim to hear. I’ll hang on to that word as I help the painting make it through the rest of the process and strain to hear the rest of the name it’s trying to tell me.

I don’t always hear it accurately at first; the voice is faint and hoarse, and I have to strain to hear it. But I write down what I hear. The painting is patient. Its voice is a little louder and stronger as it becomes layered with more paint. It keeps whispering its name to me, over and over in distant, quiet bits that I can only get fragments of. I write down every one of these fragments.

Some paintings are loud from the get go. their voices are fully formed after just a few layers of paint and they shout their name at me to ensure that I get it right. Go on, write it down, they say, I know you’re going to post about me to your friends and I want my name written right. If they had hands and fingers they’d tap the screen of my iPad where I put their pictures and names to keep track of them.

And some paintings have quiet voices all the way through the process, still whispering hoarsely even as I put their finishing touches on. For these paintings I spend a little more time with them even after I think they’re fully dressed and ready for the world, the tape removed to reveal their sharp, pressed creases. I talk to them. I ask them what’s holding them back from giving me their name so that I can tell the world what to call them. They’re shy but eventually we get there.

And sometimes my paintings tell me their names and I say, “oh, that can’t possibly be your name.”

And they just sit there quietly while I put more layers on and hope that the quiet and the time gives them a moment to reconsider what they told me. But it almost never does. Like I said, they already know their names. They just have to tell them to me.

This painting was one of those paintings. It told me its name and I said, “I don’t even know what that means. How can that be your name?! Surely there’s something more fitting for you.”

I brush the varnish on like I’m brushing a child’s hair, trying to change its mind like you change a child’s mind by just assuming that if you talk confidently enough about what you think is the right choice then they’ll eventually come around. You’re the adult, after all. You’re the one bringing them into this world, making the choices that shape them, just like a painting.

“Why not Mountain Pass In Twilight? Or Maples and Firs?” I’ll ask, “something everyone can understand. Something simple. Yes?” But my paintings are stubborn. Just like children.

So this is its name. Don’t ask me where it came from, I don’t know. I only know the names that they give me.

In The Battle For Your Self, Always Go For The Eyes

Acrylic on 24” x 36” canvas

Interested in buying this piece? You can see the details and a button to send me a purchase request here (and if it needs to be shipped to you, don’t worry, you and I discuss all of that before you pay anything.) Want to see other work? It’s all here.

Upcoming Exhibitions

November 1, 2022 - January 31, 2023: Odysseys group exhibition at Berkano Gallery, Seattle WA

January 2023: two-artist show at Shorelake Arts Gallery, Lake Forest WA