Document Document Document

When I was in grad school my fiber professor's mantra was Sample Sample Sample.  My mantra today is Document Document Document.  In a post two weeks ago I described some of the non-studio work involved in pulling together a body of work for a show:  making labels for each piece, compiling a checklist of the details about each work, maintaining a personal inventory of the work, yada yada yada.  It can seem--and is, sometimes--overwhelming.  And boring!  We'd all rather be in the studio.

If you're not in the business of entering shows or putting on exhibits, you may think none of this applies to you.  But . . . not so fast.  I think it's a useful practice for all of us in the making biz, whether we think of ourselves as professional artists or not.

You've heard of Swedish death cleaning, right?  The idea that by organizing your things in advance of your own passing, you are doing a giant favor to those who come after you, your heirs. (Or even yourself, the next time you have to move house.  Just sayin'.)  It's good if you, or they, don't have to guess, Who made this?  When?  What IS this?  Having that info on a label on the piece, and/or an inventory sheet, can simplify matters.  It's also good to have those records in case, God forbid, your work is damaged in a fire or flood and your insurance company wants documentation of what was lost.

Label for Red Letter Day tapestry

I suspect many of us drag our feet on this kind of thing because deep down, we don't think our work is worth this kind of care and time.  For us, it's all about enjoying the process of making, and we shy away from treating our work as if it's anything special.  I would argue, if it was worth spending the time to make it, it's worth spending an extra fifteen minutes making a label, a photo, and a written record somewhere.

Portion of Inventory Record for Red Letter Day tapestry

If you are serious about getting your work out there, then this kind of documentation is absolutely essential.  You want to have files of images and the relevant factual details at your fingertips, all in one file on your computer desktop, ready to respond to calls for entry and other opportunities.

Now . . . go make something!  And write it down. 

And now I'm getting off this particular hobbyhorse!

the dark side: documentation

Cutting a tapestry off the loom is a great moment.  Weeks or months of labor are rewarded by the satisfying snip snip of cutting the warps.  Once this happens, there's no going back. Sometimes we celebrate with champagne, cutting-off parties, and, ahem, videos on social media.

But then there is . . . the dark side.  If like me, you don't weave in your weft tails as you go, you have to deal with the hairy back and the warp ends of the tapestry somehow.  You have to clip, tie, and/or tack down those tails so they're as unobtrusive as possible.  You have to figure out hems and hanging solutions.  Actually, I don't really mind this part, as the hand work allows me to spend quality time looking closely at the piece and thinking about it.  What worked, what would I do differently next time, and what's next? 

Molly Elkind, Red Letter Night, detail (reverse side), (c) 2018

I've been doing a lot of this finishing work lately, getting ready for a solo show that I hang--yikes--one week from today.  It's been nine years since I last had a solo show, and I've forgotten how much non-studio work is involved.  There's a whole 'nother "dark side" of the tapestry biz:  Paperwork!  Documentation!  It's no fun, but you gotta do it.  Here's the spreadsheet I made just to keep track of all the tasks.

Today I made labels to sew on the back of the work.  You might think you'll never forget the details of each piece you've made, but trust me, you might.  I weave my initials into my tapestries, but I also sew on a cotton label with the title, my signature, the year it was completed, and the materials used (useful if the piece needs to be cleaned or conserved in the future).  I tack this label to the back of the piece (thank you, Rebecca Mezoff, for this model).  If you enter your work in shows, this is essential documentation so that handlers always know whose piece it is. 

For my exhibit, I'm putting much the same basic information on wall labels: title of the work, materials and, if applicable, price.  Since I am the only artist in this show, I'm omitting my name from the wall labels this time.

Cutting wall labels printed on cardstock

And then there's the checklist, a full and detailed list of every piece in the exhibit.  The same basic information as on the labels goes here, plus the size of each piece, a phrase describing the work ("handwoven tapestry"), and the sales price (including gallery commission) or the value if not for sale.  This checklist goes to the gallery's insurance company as well.  This list takes a surprisingly long time to compile!

I also put together a binder with information about me.  This binder will be out on a table near the guestbook at the gallery.  In mine, I'm including my updated resume, my artist statement, and the checklist.

binder with checklist and information for potential buyers 

Finally, and I hope to get to this soon, I will update my own personal artwork inventory.  This is for my records only.  You can buy software for this, but I just made a table in Word.  This document has a thumbnail photo of each piece, the title, size, the date completed, a description and notes about whether it's framed or mounted, the price, information about who it has been sold or given to, and where it has been shown.  I refer to this inventory all the time, if I want to enter a show or recall what has been shown where.

Mary tapestries inventory (not current)

So much paperwork, right?  I'd love to hear how you all deal with documenting your work.  There are probably as many ways as there are artists.

Why bother with documentation at all?  That's the topic for my next post.