Finding inspiration for a painting isn’t always the hard part, sometimes it’s what comes after. The brush is down, the paint has settled, and there it is: a finished piece that feels complete… until someone asks, “What’s it called?”
The piece above is called "Cup of Curiosity." Think how different it would be if it were titled "Red Fox #6."
Titles have a way of either opening a door or quietly closing one. A flat, predictable title can leave a painting feeling smaller than it is. On the other hand, a thoughtful, curious, or even slightly mysterious title can pull someone in, giving them a place to begin their own connection with the work. It’s not about explaining the painting—it’s about extending an invitation.
Collectors, especially, love that moment of connection. A title can be the first thread they grab onto. It gives them language, mood, and sometimes even permission to feel something they couldn’t quite name before. In that sense, a title isn’t just a label—it’s part of the experience.
The way artists arrive at titles is all over the map, and that’s part of the fun.
This piece above is called "A Time of Unrelenting Noise." This how different it would be if it was titled, "Lego Study 5."
Some artists keep a running list of phrases pulled from books, conversations, or passing thoughts. They underline lines while reading, jot down fragments, and revisit them later to see what fits. Others wait until the painting is complete and simply sit with it—staring, pacing, letting the work speak back until something surfaces. There are artists who title instinctively, almost without thinking, and others who wrestle with it for days.
There’s no single “right” method, but there is one common trap: being boring.
Titles like Untitled #47 or Blue Abstract don’t do much for the viewer. They don’t invite curiosity or offer a way in. Of course, there are contexts where restraint works—but more often than not, a painting benefits from a title that has a bit of life in it. Something suggestive. Something that nudges the imagination.
A good title doesn’t have to be poetic or clever in an obvious way. It just has to feel intentional. It might echo the mood of the painting, contradict it, or hint at a story just out of reach. Sometimes the best titles raise a question rather than answer one.
If you’re stuck, try shifting how you think about it. Instead of asking, “What is this painting?” ask:
- What does it feel like?
- What memory does it brush up against?
- What line from a book, a song, or a conversation lingers nearby?
At the end of the day, titles are another tool in your practice. Subtle, often overlooked, but powerful when used well. They don’t need to carry the whole weight of the painting but they can absolutely change how someone steps into it.
And that first step matters.
