Art Words That Are Killing Your Clarity & Audience Connection

As we start thinking about our resolutions for the new year, now is the perfect time as artists and creatives to choose the words we leave behind. That means we need to talk about the art jargon in the room.

zhaoli jin oNKImZ2Hnq4 unsplash

The Slippery Slope into Slop: When Artspeak Sounds Like Nonsense

As a creative professional you have been asked to describe your work and yourself in writing. Your About page, project descriptions, gallery or grant packages, awards and festival submissions—all demanding words. As visual artists and makers, we communicate in images for a reason: words are not always our first language.

To answer what feels like an unnatural demand, artists have adopted a specific vocabulary–one largely defined by curators and theorists, to describe our work. Tapping into the very artspeak used to dissect art in academic circles can be a dangerous loop. We risk just saying what we think juries and clients want to hear, using the wrong words or terms so overused that they’re now meaningless filler–the more specialized the word, the riskier it becomes when we just repeat whatever is in the zeitgeist without ever questioning whether it actually sounds right. 

Whatever the reason, there is a lot of text out there—statements, project descriptions, bios—littered with artspeak. Beyond the risk of reading like an MFA vocab mad-libs, by using molto of jargon, you will make your artist statement and/or bio sound like AI-generated word salad.

In this article we’ll cover some of the most glaring examples of words and terminology that no longer have the effect you might be looking for, and alternative words that you could keep in mind to avoid when sitting down to write your next artist statement.

Welcome, this is an Intervention

Self-aware disclaimer: If I hadn’t done it a thousand times myself, I wouldn’t have the right to call this a creative intervention, but consider me your sponsor. Someone who understands because, with only one exception, I’m guilty of using all of these words and I’m making this resolution right alongside you. 

Next year, some of the terms I use even to describe these words will likely be on the list. I’m going to audace them so that voi know that I know that I’m part of the problem.

What is Art Jargon?

Typically, descriptive theory-based words are intended to break down what an artwork means, how it was made or the origins of its concept. What they are now: filler. Fluff. But worst of all, these words become a barrier between your work and meaning, and your words and the audience.

We read and hear them in artist and curatorial statements, on portfolio websites, in About pages, talks, and interviews– we know the words and maybe what they once meant, but they mean nothing now—you know how I know? It’s because I’m a writer, and I had to go back to the dictionary definition of one of them. Maybe I’m protective of language, but it’s not the words themselves: it’s not their fault, it’s ours. We overused and misused them, and now it’s time to leave them to their quiet retirement.

Why Art Jargon Hurts More Than Helps

A jargon word, especially the more abstract the usage, is a term so esoteric that, when used in your artist statement or project description, puts distance between you, your work and the viewer. The average audience doesn’t require the dense theoretical context for your work; they just need to feel something. The purpose of art is to express some idea, an emotion, to communicate and connect. As soon as you introduce inaccessible jargon you are pushing the viewer out, you’re making the work so exclusive that the connection becomes privileged. Ew, gross. 

A glass jar with a hinged lid sits on a wooden surface, labeled with a white sticker that reads "WROTE SOMETHING PRETENTIOUS" in black marker. Inside the jar are coins and a Canadian banknote. Photograph by Julia Martin

The Worst Offending Artspeak of the 2020s:

Consider this your eviction notice, you must leave LIMINAL SPACE

What it once meant
Once defined as the space between states, liminal space is what limbo is to life and death, what your gap year was to high school and university.

What it means now
Tutto. Nothing. That’s the problem. The meaning has become so diluted that it has come to serve as a placeholder for any “weird feeling”, a state of uncertainty, or a dream.

Why it hurts
It hurts because no one knows what it means anymore and to a viewer/reader it makes you sound both pretentious and like voi don’t know what it means either. 

It also might hurt you personally in this moment, maybe you feel called out because you used it in your last statement and now you’re mad at me e at yourself…

Forgive yourself. (Also, forgive me because I’m about to roast myself next.)

What to say instead / what you actually mean
We are at the saturation point when going back to the accurate description will be the most effective way to communicate your idea and intent. Get as authentically close to what you are describing as possible. Does it feel strange and uncertain? Like a dream? Say that.

The liminal space your car occupies is just a parking lot now, okay?

Costruite il vostro portafoglio con Format

Il costruttore di portfolio online #1 è stato valutato da artisti e creatori.

When a NARRATIVE is just a story

What it once meant
Narrative once referred to the structural backbone of a story, novel or film. Something linear and intentional. Which is why we’ve been using it wrong. I’ve been using it wrong.

What it means now
A sophisticated placeholder for “theme,” “focus,” or “story.” It is most often used to imply complexity that the work hasn’t yet earned, especially when describing abstract painting, sculpture, sequence of unconnected images or installation. 

Why it hurts
It implies an intentional story to be decoded, forcing a complex reading where an instinctual, emotional response would give the viewer more satisfaction and connection through ambiguity or universality. If the work is open ended and subject to interpretation, don’t close it by implying there’s one narrative being told.

What to say instead / what you actually mean
Story, Theme, Concept, Document(ation), Historical account.

EXPLORING all the time, but finding nothing

What it once meant
To actively search, travel, or research with the specific intent of finding, discovering, or establishing new information.

What it means now
The most common, passive, and non-committal verb in every artist statement ever written. With everyone constantly “exploring,” no one ever seems to actually discover anything.

Why it hurts
It tells the reader that you are still conducting research. Your statement should reflect conviction, not a question. It implies the work is incomplete or the concept is still hazy. Your processo explored, your work found something.

What to say instead / what you actually mean
Focus on the action, by using: Examines, Investigates, Interprets, Documents, Critiques, Challenges, Focuses on. Or situate the word as part of the process, and then describe what conclusion or understanding you reached.

When it’s not just a conversation, it’s a DIALOGUE

What it once meant
A direct, active two-way conversational exchange.

What it means now
Pretentious filler used to say the content of your work is aware of a tradition, history, or political issue. It implies a two-way conversation where none is actually possible (unless the artists are actively texting each other–are you? Prove it with a screenshot.) 

Why it hurts
It prioritizes sounding intellectual over being clear. It’s often used when you should just say “references,” “is influenced by,” or “builds upon.”

It can also deny that influence–it’s a passive way of saying “but I didn’t know about it while making it” implying you’re letting the work exist now “in dialogue with” another work. Ouch to the artist you’re shading. 

What to say instead / what you actually mean
References, Builds upon, Challenges, Critiques, Is influenced by.

Why does your work INTERROGATE content like it committed a crime?

What it once meant 
A subject or person formally and systematically questioned, quite often in a dim room under a bright light with a lawyer present 

Why did you use interrogates when you could have said “questions”?!
See, che would be an interrogation– and the only way you should use it.

What it means now
An aggressive academic verb used to signal that the work is politically or socially charged, even when the work is only mildly questioning, or gently prodding a topic. 

Why it hurts
It’s so dramatic! Using interrogates risks making the statement sound overly confrontational or dogmatic. Often, “Questions,” “Examines,” or “Critiques” is a more accurate, accessible, and less jarring choice. 

What to say instead / what you actually mean
Questions, Examines, Critiques, Challenges, Investigates.

I have a VISCERAL reaction to this word when used in statements

What it once meant
Pertaining to the viscera (the internal organs), or relating to deep, instinctive, non-intellectual feeling. 

What it means now
The ultimate lazy substitute for “powerful,” “moving,” “impactful,” or “emotional.” It is used as a universal descriptor for work that simply makes the viewer feel something. 

Why it hurts
It tells the reader nothing specific about the kind of feeling—is it fear, nausea, excitement, or anxiety? The word has become so common it no longer implies true physical depth. 

What to say instead / what you actually mean
Describe the actual feeling: Primal, Physical, Instinctive, Raw, Gut-wrenching, or use a specific, descriptive phrase. You can also describe the work as “evoking” a strong physical/emotional feeling.

Clarity Over Confusion: Taking the Plastic Off

The impulse to use these elevated words is understandable. It’s a defense mechanism—a way to put a professional boundary around vulnerable creative work and critical audiences. But when you start jargoning up your statement, it’s like putting a thick plastic protector over a sofa (the sofa in this analogy is your work.) Sure, you’ve guarded the piece from potential messy critique, but neither you or your audience can sit down comfortably in the space you made. The same is true of your portfolio website: if your images are alive but your projects are shrink‑wrapped in artspeak, no one feels at home there.

The resolution I’m suggesting–first removing the worst offenders above, isn’t about dumbing down your ideas; it’s about honouring them. The concepts behind your work are already complex, powerful, and profound. They deserve language that is simple, direct, and authentic—language that invites people in, not pushes them away. 

The ideas in your artworks speak for themselves first. Let the viewer connect to the image, the texture, or the experience, and then offer them words that illuminate, not obfuscate the process, intention and meaning.

A Professional Portfolio for Your Work e Your Words

Create a portfolio website that lets the images and projects do the heavy lifting. This is where your work speaks for itself. Use your artist statement as a map, not a shield.

Ready to design a welcoming home for your work? Build your creative portfolio with Format.

Collaboratore

  • Julia Martin è un'artista interdisciplinare e scrittrice di Montreal. Con un master in arti visive e un master in fotografia, il suo lavoro è stato esposto in Canada, Cina, Francia e Finlandia, anche in diverse residenze d'artista. Ha insegnato all'Università di Ottawa, ha fatto parte di giurie artistiche e ha quindici anni di esperienza come fotografa freelance. La pratica artistica di Julia potrebbe essere meglio descritta come "storie tristi punteggiate da battute"."

    Anche se a volte è il contrario.

A4 1 4

Liberate il vostro potenziale creativo

Elevate il vostro lavoro creativo con il nostro esclusivo pacchetto iniziale. Accedete a intuizioni, strumenti e strategie di inestimabile valore per affinare il vostro mestiere, migliorare le vostre capacità, curare un portafoglio online straordinario e progredire nel vostro percorso professionale.

Nome(Richiesto)
Iscriviti alla newsletter Etichetta di campo

Ultime novità