So What’s in a Name?
I have no particular rules when it comes to naming a photograph.
But one thing I do know. By the time a photograph becomes a finished image,
it will have a title.
When that title arrives is another matter entirely.
WALKIES
Sometimes it comes to me while I am still looking through the viewfinder, composing a photograph that has yet to be taken. On other occasions it emerges later, while I am working on the image in the studio. And sometimes I can spend weeks pondering what to call a photograph, searching for a title that somehow feels right.
There is no particular method to any of this.
A photographic frame, whether captured digitally or on film, starts its life with little more than a generic reference number. But somewhere along the way something changes.
As the photograph develops into a finished image, it begins to acquire an identity.
A personality of its own. It becomes something more than a number sitting in an archive.
And sometimes, the stronger the image, the louder it seems to shout:
NAME ME!
Perhaps that is why, when I come across photographs simply presented as Untitled,
I begin to wonder.
Is the photograph really saying nothing?
Or is the photographer just not listening?
Of course, what that name should be is another question altogether.
Should it describe what we see? Should it tell us where the photograph was taken, identify a person, refer to a colour, or perhaps reflect something less tangible?
There is no single answer.
For me, a title offers the viewer a direction of travel. A signpost into the image, pointing towards something I would like them to consider. It needn’t explain the photograph. In fact, I would rather it didn’t. Nor does it need to tell the whole story. There should still be somewhere for the viewer to go.
Sometimes a single word is enough.
OTHERS
One word can be remarkably powerful. It can suggest rather than explain. It can draw attention towards something without necessarily telling you what you are supposed to find when you get there.
But not every photograph asks for such economy.
Sometimes a title becomes a phrase, an observation, perhaps even a little conversation with the image.
CHANGE YOUR TROUSERS FOR KILTS
There are times when I enjoy being playful with titles. They can even be slightly cryptic, referring to something that isn’t necessarily visible within the photograph at all, but is nevertheless part of its story.
Without knowing the photograph or the story behind it, that title perhaps raises more questions than it answers.
And I rather like that.
The journey towards a title can sometimes be as interesting as the title itself.
There are photographs I have looked at and, almost immediately, a name has arrived in my head. It has stayed with the photograph ever since.
Others have taken a much longer road.
A title can appear to work perfectly well for a while before beginning to feel wrong. Alternatives come and go. There are dead ends. Occasionally the whole thing needs completely rethinking.
And then there are those titles that become a discussion in their own right.
In the past I had endless conversations with my friend and fellow photographer Mike Rossi about titles, regardless of whether it was one of his photographs or one of mine that happened to be up for debate.
We would bounce ideas back and forth until we reached agreement, or not. One suggestion would lead to another. A single word could become the subject of considerable discussion.
What we were looking for were words that belonged to an image, but did not define it.
Easier said than done.
HE’S GOT THE MOVES
Perhaps that is the balance I am always looking for. A title that becomes attached to the image, but doesn’t close it down. Something that offers a way in without determining where the viewer must eventually arrive.
And even when I think I have found it, the story isn’t necessarily over.
I have discovered that titles aren’t always fixed in stone.
A photograph may exist quite happily under one title for years. Then I move it into a new collection and suddenly that title no longer feels quite right.
The photograph hasn’t changed.
But its surroundings have.
It now sits alongside different images, perhaps as part of a sequence telling a different story. The title that once seemed entirely appropriate can suddenly feel out of balance.
And so the photograph gets reconsidered.
Sometimes renamed.
WHEN POSEIDON PLAYS WITH NEPTUNE
There are no rules in any of this. No right or wrong way to name a photograph.
Simply what works for you.
And perhaps, over time, the way we name our photographs becomes part of our photographic identity too.
We recognise photographers by the way they see. Perhaps we might also recognise something of them in the way they name what they see.
Which brings me back to all those photographs waiting in the archive.
Perhaps, before we finish, we should spare a thought for the thousands of images that never quite made the grade. Those that were never selected, never developed into finished photographs, and never given a name.
They remain in the archive, suspended in photographic limbo, their only identity a rather unremarkable reference number.
Some may yet be rediscovered.
For the rest, perhaps their number will have to do.
After all, not every photograph gets to have a name.
Chris Page
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