Naming a piece

For years I would simply name a piece by the color and type of vessel it was. For example, Medium Blue Vase. There was no concept or thought behind what the piece represented. With the expansion of my practice to be sculptural, I've begun given them more significant names. 

Usually, it may be something that I'm ruminating while working. My "Self Portrait", pictured below, is clearly not a physical representation of me. It started as a regular "Franken-Vessel". When I finished it, I looked at it and how awkward it was. It was all wrong. So, I decided I would cut it up and add it to the "Fractured" series. Then the panic set in. Does this mean that I've lost the control of the medium that I had worked so hard to develop? Did I blow up my practice, only to "fracture" it and fall back on a technique that netted the most expensive piece was sold from a photo, and was the most expensive piece I sold. Down the self loathing rabbit hole I went. I never wanted to make work where I was motivated by money. So, all of my negative self thoughts were blowing up in my head. After I finished re-assembling it, I declared never to make another fractured piece, and to move forward. It has a very narrow opening. After it was fired, I decided to write some of those negative thoughts down, and put them into the piece. The only way they would be coming out is if the piece was smashed. It was cathartic. 

Another example of naming a piece, is the series, "When It's Enough". The first piece in that series, is the lidded piece. I've begun putting feet back on my work again. I used to do that all the time because I loved the character it would add to them. But, I stopped for a few years because the feet no longer added anything to the work. Now, however, they really animate them. As I was working on the lidded piece, I came to the point where it was time to cut the feet out. I cut them out, added the slab to the bottom and secured it. At this point I need to let the soft bottom slab firm up, so I walk away. When I came back to it, I realized that only 3 feet touched the table. The 4th was about 1/4" off the workbench. A teacher/mentor critiqued my work and he said, "I feel like you're holding back. You seem 'afraid'". So, with his voice echoing through my head, I decided to cut out the 4th foot, and exaggerate it. Even with just 3 feet, the piece was as stable as if it was a flat base. That got me thinking! I had enough with just 3 feet. If I had the 4th foot, I would have had to figure out a way for it to touch the table. And THAT got me thinking even more about my life, what I have, and how I've been so content, and settled with what I have. I really have enough. There were the 3 stages - realization, acceptance, and celebration. 

I have a story for all of them, at this point. I'll save the others for an artist talk!