The assuming artist with his unassuming pencil.
To sign a work of art is a delicate act of...presumption, for any self-conscious person.
Thankfully I've had lots of practice, starting at an early age.
As any teenager I used to rehearse, as it were, for future assignments, frantically writing my name over and over again.
"Should it look like this, should it look like that?"
"A slant to the left, a slant to the right?"
"What pencil is the prettiest?"
Signing one's name according to the latest fashion is not always easy.
I remember from early teendom trying to introduce my own signature handwriting (pun intended): leisurely adding an extra horizontal line to every tittle.
In addition, according to local youth mores, I wrote the dot above the i as a circle, admittedly a girly take on the letter.
This mash of handwriting styles was never internationally recognized.
Now's my chance.
When signing my RED PRINTS, I have gone from a hesitant hand trembling full of plight when approaching the paper (this was last winter when I signed the first eight prints), to today's firm and secure signature.
Signing artwork is something very precious. It can't be too unassuming, nor too discrete. The signature is part of what you pay for, no?