This article was first written for Orson Scott Card’s Intergalactic Medicine Show. It was intended to run in the same issue as my short story, “Sin Titulo.” The article was ultimately was dropped, although the story ran. I recently saw it while cleaning out some file, and thought I’d share it here, in case it was of interest.
I first saw the words “Sin Titulo” in the 1990s, printed in italics at the top of an art gallery wall tag-- one of those small, white cards hung next to the art we’re theoretically there to see. A Spanish illiterate, I was left to imagine their meaning on my own.
Sin Titulo
Acrylic on Lead
1991
Wall tags tell us what the art is, though not what it means. And of course, “Sin Titulo” simply means “Untitled.” A relatable state, as I’m firmly of the belief that and sooner or later we all feel untitled.
For some of us it’s awkward adolescence. For others it’s early adulthood, when the unlimited potential of every choice overwhelms any single definite step we can take. We wrap ourselves in uniforms of clothing and attitude, labels or tattoos. At one point or another, everyone feels as if they’re seated at a table, trying to figure out the rules of a game that everyone else has already mastered.
Sin Titulo
Ink on Flesh
1998
Many of the names and images of this story are pulled from my own life. A high school friend had a younger brother named Egan. Another friend was named Kulwicki. And like the fictional Egan, I had a small cache of metal figures I’d dabbed with paint, tiny soldiers in a game for which I’d bought the rules, but too shy to invite anyone to play.
In time, the luckiest among us find friends and partners to join our games and share in our lives. We learn that we’re defined by how we treat the ones we love and, even more, by how we treat the ones we don’t. We may go through life wrapped in labels and uniforms, declaring who we want to be, but it doesn’t matter what we say; it’s our relationships that show what life really means.
Sin Titulo
Words on Screen
2018
