A second story wall in Florence (Oltrarno), Italy
Carmina and Tony Discuss Captions
A second story wall in Florence (Oltrarno), Italy
Carmina and Tony Discuss Captions
To caption, or not to caption: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler to suffer the outrageous comments of ignorant viewers,
Or to arm them against a sea of error and prejudice,
And by gently explaining lead them to greater knowledge and joy?
“Oh what to do—what to do?” Tony exclaimed.
“For starters stick with photography,” Carmina replied.
“Seriously Carmina, it’s a real problem. You know my work. It looks straightforward—like what it is. But there’s always more going on in those pictures—symbolism, cultural references and irony—stuff like that. So I think maybe I should provide folks with cues—clues, some kind of caption or label, something to explain my intentions in making the picture. But then I think, no, it’s visual art, it shouldn’t need words,” said Tony.
He continued, “Say I do a photo of a guy standing alone under a street light at a bus stop; what is this photo really about? Is it an existential statement? Maybe. Is it a commentary on this particular man? Perhaps. Is it just a study of light and shadow? It could be any or all of these things, none or more. So what am I obligated to make known about the photograph? Whatever I write in a caption or label will influence how the viewer interprets the picture. Yet if I say too little, or nothing, the viewer may be grossly mislead. So where’s the balance? What ought I tell? What must I tell?”
“Yeah Tony, it’s a conundrum and one I wrestle with too. I need to name my paintings to make them final—give them an individual identity. Naming them actually helps me understand what they mean, might mean or could. Yet I know once I name a painting it opens up certain ways of thinking about it and closes others. Even harder than names, is the whole ‘artist’s statement’ thing. That’s really fraught with issues,” Carmina replied.
“I hear you Carmina. But with photographs the problem is verisimilitude. Photographs always look real. They are the record of something that existed, even if it was no more than a momentary shadow. However, a painting is the result of countless decisions and physical movements made by the artist in response to his or her inner experience. It is a cumulative thing built minute-by-minute, hour-by-hour and sometimes with interruptions of days, weeks or even years, but photos are made instantly and they appear like flattened slices of reality. So the photographer often must supply facts not readily apparent in the image. For example, a picture might appear to show a police officer’s hand about to slap a protestor’s face when he is really sweeping away a wasp.”
“So you are saying that photographs are more dependent upon words than are paintings. Am I right?” asked Carmina.
“Yes. And I am also saying that the viewer often needs more information than shows in the photograph in order to understand and appreciate it. Photographs depend upon shared concepts and cultural references. If the viewer doesn’t know what they are looking at they won’t see it—they will only see shapes and forms but they won’t know if those shapes are the Eiffel tower or a beehive. And photographs cannot show thought—only the results of thought. So if it is essential to know what the photographer or subject was thinking, a label, caption or even an entire book may be necessary,” Tony replied.
“Well next week I want to talk about writing an artist’ statement. I’ll bet you have lots of thoughts about that. So then, same time here at the Bean next week?” Carmina asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” said Tony.
What a wonderful explication of the issues I was trying to get my mind around when I started looking at my own photos, thinking, “Title? No Title?”
What’s most surprising to me is that I would have said paintings are more dependent on words than photos. You’ve given me a good bit to think about today while I try not to think about the heat!
I’ll look forward to some re-reads of this one.
Captioning and Artist’ statements are are topics I’ll have more to say about. I suspect you too will have insights to share in this regard.
One aspect I didn’t address is when not to caption, and there are certainly times to avoid it.
I can’t get away from the thought that Tony names his photos as a way of capturing his “beginning” – his original intention for the photo. Carmina, on the other hand, names as an “ending”, as a way of summing up what has evolved through the process of painting itself.
Just to scoot a little farther into left field, Carmina’s words remind me of T.S. Eliot’s poem, “The Naming of Cats”. I won’t quote, but I remember a bit – cats have everyday names, and fancy names, but in the end the name that matters is the name known only to the cat – it’s “ineffable” name, which it contemplates regularly.
It feels to me as though Carmina is saying it’s part of the artist’s task to discover a painting’s “ineffable” name – the name it already has laid claim to through the creative process. How you discover that, I have no clue.
What I do know is that in my writing, some titles come to me fully formed before I’ve written a word, and my job is to make sense of them. Other times, I haven’t a title at all until the piece is completed, and then the piece seems to name itself – the title becomes obvious.
You do realize Tony and Carmina are becoming so real I wish I could pop over to the Supreme Bean to chit-chat for a while!
I found one other delight here – Tony’s remark that, “If the viewer doesn’t know what they are looking at they won’t see it—they will only see shapes and forms but they won’t know if those shapes are the Eiffel tower or a beehive.” It’s art as Rorschach! Flat, one-dimensional, absolutely open to interpretation.
The first time I took the Rorschach, I told the test administrator the first image looked like a butterfly that had been run over with a lawn mower. (I didn’t have a clue how to interpret the look he gave me.) When I saw your photo “An Homage to Aaron Siskind”, there wasn’t a clue anywhere – no title! – and my mind darted this way and that, trying to figure out “what it was’. Like Jeanie, I finally settled on birch – trees, logs, whatever.
Linda: Painting and writing are very much alike.
When I finish a painting it can be difficult to decide upon name. Sometimes I make something up or pick a name that is seemingly random. Other times a name just pops up. Often it is not until much later that I realize the random name wasn’t so random or that the name that just “popped up” really didn’t.
Creative work is always a dialog between the conscious and subconscious and we all know more than we are consciously aware of–there is always an invisible hand guiding our work, or misguiding it.
The T.S. Eliot reference is on the mark. In fact painting is the effort to make the ineffable visible.
Your observation about naming a photograph as a way of “capturing a beginning” is an intriguing observation. Likewise, I believe that naming a photograph can also be about endings. Often the process leading up to the making of the photograph may go through many changes of intention, so much so that only after the photograph is made is the intention revealed to the photographer.
I’m glad Tony and Carmina are becoming real. I was unsure about using characters this way but felt it would give me flexibility in expressing different and even contradictory points of view. It also allows for humor and social commentary.
Interesting. I’m inclined to lean the opposite way. To me, the photo needs less description. OK, the purist may want to know where that photo was taken or what it is or when. But the image more or less says what there is to say — the day was lovely, the rocks were warm, (they were rocks), the house was run down and by a stream, perhaps unloved or abandoned. It tells the story through its reality (ok, that doesn’t apply to abstract photography, but to me, that’s more painterly, and maybe a different discussion).
With the painting, as a viewer who didn’t do the painting, having a clue or a caption is helpful to see what the artist saw. Particularly with something more abstract, more open to interpretation. Your wonderful yellow wall could represent something else to another set of eyes. And maybe that’s fine — as an artist, your subject will matter to you, whether it’s a representation of something real or a thought or feeling. But as an observer, I might see heat where the artist sees anger (not in that image, by the way) or clouds where the artist might see eggplant. And it really doesn’t matter, because unless it’s tagged, the vision becomes the viewer’s, not the artist’s. And is that OK? That’s up to the artist!
And I love what Linda mentioned about “Cats.” I love that particular piece a lot. (And we all know a cat or two with multiple names!)
Jeanie: Welcome back. With photographs that are photo-journalistic or documentary in nature it is often important to provide details so as not to mislead the viewer, no matter how artistic the interpretation. For example some years ago Art Wolfe caught flack for publishing a photograph of Zebras in which he cloned a couple to fill out the composition. However, he did include captioning that revealed the additions. As a member of the North American Nature photographers I am ethically bound to reveal if my animal photographs are photographed in captivity. Context dictates. And where the picture, uncaptioned, can mislead the photographer should consider appropriate description. However, I agree that aesthetically a photograph should stand on its own, and that no words should be used unless absolutely necesessay.