This Friday, I drove with my family to Chicago to attend the opening of my sister's BFA show at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago.
My sister (who is much, much cooler than I am) and her friend Kyle created for their final project the John Flaxicorn Memorial Library, "[A] collection of comics and books created by the staff, faculty, alumni, graduating seniors, and underclassmen of SAIC."
Their library is currently open in the Sullivan Galleries, 33 S. State St., on the 7th floor. If you're in the Chicago area I *highly* recommend swinging by to check it out. There are comfy chairs, reading lamps, fancy rugs, and most importantly scads of comics. And they're free! Part of the idea of the project was to create multiple copies of each title, and to offer them up for readers to take with them when they leave. I, myself, grabbed a couple Beth Hetland originals, as well as a Small Science Collective title and a really special Anders Nilsen.
If you go, you'll also be able to wander the gallery to take in other SAIC graduating seniors' final projects. There are some really incredible pieces there, and I enjoyed walking around the space, letting color and form and design overload my senses. (And skinny jeans. Since I was there for the opening, I spied droves of skinny jeans. I think it's an art school requirement.)
But one thing I and my compatriots noticed when exploring the artists' works was the (to my mind) inordinate number of "Untitled"s in the mix. Seriously, at least one per wall, sometimes more.
Now, I don't pretend to be an art expert, not by any means. But it struck me as odd that something that the artist puts so much into -- that something the artist is ready to share with the world -- wouldn't have a name.
Not even a working title, just an "un."
I thought to myself, "Well, what did she [the artist] call it when she thought about it? When she said to herself, 'Oh, I'd love to go out tonight but instead I have to go home and work on Untitled.'"
Maybe she thought, "my painting?"
In my world, the world of books, everything has a name. Sometimes the title isn't the same from manuscript to finished book, but it's always called *something*. And I always have shorthand versions of those titles for myself, usually just the first letter of each word of the title, to help me keep my calendar organized and not too filled with pencil marks.
I work on our Bleak House books for quite a long time -- at the very least, for nine months -- and I know my authors have put a great deal of work into them before I even see them. I can't really concieve of putting that much time and effort into an endeavor and not creating a name for it.
But then again, maybe I'm just title-happy. My cats each have three or four names, and I answer to at least twenty-five nicknames. At least! So perhaps my life of labels has trained me beyond a place where I can appreciate the simplicity of "Untitled."
I think, maybe, I'm just too in love with words not to use them at every opportunity.
