A note about signing artwork...

I often avoid putting my name on a work of art. If there is a place to sign the work that is "perfect" for the work itself, I go for it. If I feel that my signature will distract from the composition, I don't sign the artwork. Instead, I sign just below the corner of the painting on the inner mat, in the space between that and the second mat. This is common practice in printmaking and I do this occasionally on a watercolor work that has no "good" place to sign. In all cases, I put my signature, the date and title of a work on the back of the work itself.

Back to the front: I have tried signing with first initial/last name and full name, but decided to purposely sign only my first name from now on, with the wonderful thought that my first name will some day be recognized even beyond other artists with the same name. When people hear the name "Lorena" my artwork and writing will come first to mind. I like this thought - even if it never happens - it's a good one.

I was told by an artist from whom I took a class once that I shouldn't sign on the diagonal. The reason: that would distract from my painting. However, when I do sign a work - usually in another media, but sometimes in a watercolor, I prefer the diagonal signature. I succumbed to this man's guidance for a time and signed many works on the horizontal, but it looks weak and commonplace. I don't like it. To make my point, I have made a graphite rendering of my glasses in a case marked with the maker's name: "Signature". I could not resist the temptation to write my name with a fourish on the diagonal, just below and to the right of the image. I like it! From now on, my signature is likely to appear anywhere on an artwork, in any position, but never on the horizontal! I am, after all, in charge, am I not?
Here is an interesting bit of information from Stephen Pugsley, etcher/printmaker, published in the Artist's Magazine: Why artists use pencil in signing original prints: "They are signed in pencil because graphite can't be printed! A signature in ink might just be a part of the printed image, but a graphite signature authenticates that it was added by hand."

We live and learn! If you have an opinion to share about your 'signature' experiences, I welcome your comments.

      

                                                             Michael Bishop exhibit, Shasta College Art Gallery, Redding, CA, 2005

My first reaction: Amusing. I like it!  The metals with their varying patinas are beautiful in themselves.

But after viewing the entire exhibit, I was less amused.  "One and Three", cast iron, aluminum and fabricated steel with electronic components, did strike me as amusing, but my impressions of the remainder of the works ranged from "hmmm"  to "morbid".  There is nothing "light" about this show, either in materials or content.  It speaks of heavy, underworld themes to me, and the heavy cast iron that is so much a part of the works, give a sense of the eternal to them.

I found the repeated heads that cover the walls and make up portions of the works to be morbid, like visions of the damned.  The faces portray souls that are lost,  in agony, or vacant like zombies.  The faces that cover the floor under "Plain Truth", all in neat little rows, all in the same direction, except one, make me wonder what truth is represented - perhaps that we are nothing, encased in the earth, looking perpetually upward for help?   There's at least some encouragement.

The free-standing works are the most interesting to me: the contrast in materials and loose compositions are not unpleasant to look at, though, personally, I find this kind of work to be not art, but only a collection of stuff, put together with some imagination.  I'm not uneducated concerning the ways of modern art, but do not agree that "everything is art".

Overall, the exhibit reminds me of a newly opened ancient tomb, with people important to the deceased in life, portrayed over the entire space of the walls, and objects in disarray through the settling of the earth over time.  For that reason, I find that Bishop's work is most similar to - perhaps inspired by - Egyptian art.  The sense of timelessness, the references to a calendar, the heads which stand through eternity to harbor the receptive "Ra", the permanence and darkness of the materials, the boat and oars to carry the soul forever through the afterlife...everything speaks of the Egyptian tomb, but the materials are cold and dark, and the emotions portrayed are of despair: together, they  represent an unhappy after world - souls lost forever.   Only the horse is amused!  If the Egyptian period is what inspired the artist, then he has done it very cleverly, but I'm hoping that the artist sees himself represented by the horse, high on a wall, who stands out as the one piece of light, overseeing all with amusement  -  and not by the rest of his work.