Leo+DadMade for Leo
Your Body of Work
Rung 2 of 3 · The method

Holding It Together While Keeping It Interesting

You know why a series says more. Now let's plan one that actually hangs together — and write the statement that explains it.

Subjective & conceptual frames Builds on: where it comes from

Plan Pick a site, then choose three or four pieces. The gauge checks your cohesion and variation — and drafts a starter artist statement.
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Audio WalkthroughDad & Leo, Two Minutes — Coming Soon
Video ExplainerComing Soon

A strong body of work pulls off a balancing act. It has to feel like one thing — clearly the work of one person, about one idea — while also being interesting enough that you'd want to look at every piece, not just the first. Those two pulls have names: cohesion and variation.

The Two Dials: Cohesion and Variation

Cohesion is the thread that ties the pieces together. Usually it's the subject — one site, returned to again and again. It can also be a shared palette (everything in dusty greens and bone-white), a shared theme (the place at the edge of being lost), or shared mark-making. Whatever it is, cohesion is what makes a viewer say "ah, these belong together" before they've read a word.

Variation is what stops the series being four copies of the same thing. You hold the subject steady and change something else: the medium (a drawing, a lino print, a clay tile, a photograph), the viewpoint (close-up, wide, looking down, looking up), the scale, or the time of day. Variation gives the set its development — the sense of a mind exploring, not repeating.

The balancing act: vary too little and it's boring — four near-identical works. Vary too much and it falls apart — four unrelated pictures that happen to share a frame. The sweet spot is one thing held constant, several things deliberately changed.

A Worked One, Slowly

Say your site is the creek behind school. You keep the site constant — that's your cohesion, locked in. Now you choose four pieces. Piece one: a charcoal drawing, wide view, early morning. Piece two: a lino print, close-up of the water's surface. Piece three: a clay tile, looking down at the bank from above. Piece four: a photograph, wide again but at dusk. Same creek every time — but the medium, the viewpoint and the light all shift. A viewer feels both the unity and the journey. That's a body of work, not a pile of homework.

Then Write the Artist Statement

The last move is words. An artist statement is a short paragraph — three or four sentences — that tells the viewer your subject, your idea, and why these particular works. It's not a description ("this is a creek"); it's the point of view ("I returned to the creek across a single day to watch how light keeps changing a place I thought I knew"). The toy drafts you a starter version from your choices; your job is to make it sound like you.

Statement skeleton: I have made a body of work about [site], exploring [your idea]. Across [media you chose] and [viewpoints you chose], I wanted to show [what you keep returning to]. Then rewrite it in your own voice.

Us, Thinking Out Loud

For your real series, what's the one thing you'll hold constant — the site, the palette, or the theme?

Could you say your idea in a single sentence before you've made a thing? If not, that's the sentence to find first.