A trip to SF MOMA recently brought forward something that has always bothered me: Why don’t fine artists—painters, sculptors, photographers—give their works titles worthy of the creation?
If I’m ever locked in a museum overnight, I’m going to take a marker and rename all the pieces.
I might start with the photograph above. It’s called “Looking East on 4th and C, Chula Vista, Calif.” Really? That’s a label for the file cabinet, not a title. I can think of three more without even trying hard:
• Going Home Again
• On the Edge
• The Third Pole
Think of the masters, many of whom sell their works short:
Nothing to tell us what the mood is, why this painting at this time? Maybe we’re supposed to come up with the meaning ourselves.
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