May 20, 2010 3
Good, But Needs Polishing
Or does it?
…
Way back in the day when I took my very first 2D design class, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. I just knew I liked art. Even through the process of the class, I didn’t really understand how the skills we were taught would be applicable in the real world, but I wasn’t concerned about that either. I wasn’t an algebra student who hated math who complained that learning equations was pointless. I loved art, and I loved the 2D design class for the shear fun of it. Later I would realize that it actually did have applications in the real world, or at least it would have before the age of computers. But I digress.
One of the first projects in the class was to come up with a “motif” that we would use throughout the rest of the semester as we made an accordion style book that incorporated all of the class projects we’d do into one cohesive piece. In this class a “motif” was small design in black and white. Years later, when I was studying graphic design, a big light bulb went off. Essentially when we designed our motif, we created something like logo, but not for a company. It was purely aesthetic.
I filled up pages of my sketchbook with possible motifs. I spent a lot of time carefully drawing many different designs. I also doodled mindlessly in the margins, as I still do today.
Imagine my surprise when I was presenting many, big, glorious potential motifs that I’d spent hours drawing, and my professor pointed to a small doodle that wasn’t more than a half an inch big and said, “this one.”
Mouth agape, I looked at her and said, “really? but I spent so much time on all these others which I really think are better.”
She was firm, “no, this one. Make it bigger and show me again.”
Okie dokes. So then I took my time drawing it bigger. I evened it out, made it symmetrical, and to my eye more visually pleasing. She took one look and said, “no, take this small drawing to a xerox machine and enlarge it to the proper size and then copy it.”
Mouth hanging open once again, I followed her instructions. Finally satisfied, my professor approved my drawing, and I had my motif for the class.
That was the very first time that someone found something interesting in my sketchbook that I wouldn’t have looked twice at. It happened again recently when my friend, Anita, made a surprising choice when choosing a few of my drawings to be framed for her new apartment.
Anita also chose a cactus drawing to be framed.
This case is a little different in that I can see why she chose it. I like the drawing too, quite a lot. That said, in my mind it always needed a little polishing.
So I polished.
I traced the original cactus, but I made the colors brighter and cleaned up the blemishes and smudges on the cactus. I also took away the clouds, which I felt detracted from the cactus itself. However, the feedback was that Anita liked it, but really missed the clouds.
So I redrew some clouds.
The clouds I added were more monochromatic in color with a more even pattern than the original clouds, and that seemed to be the right fit from my perspective.
The final feedback was then that Anita really liked it, but was still drawn to the original drawing. She liked the fact that the original cactus was a little more weather beaten; he looked like a survivor. In the end, I printed out the original sketch and framed it, and my friend was happy.
This whole process sparked an internal inquiry. I’m not sure there’s really an answer, but I just find it interesting that people are, at least sometimes, attracted to my work for reasons that are very different from what my vision for the piece is.
I definitely have a perfectionist streak in me. Often I like to think of it as perfect imperfection. For the most part I don’t mind if my drawings are a little off or a little sketchy, or if the patterns I draw aren’t perfectly symmetrical, but there is also a part of me that believes that what’s in my sketchbook is a different level of completeness to what a final drawing should be.
My brother, John, once flipped through one of my sketchbooks when we were having a conversation about how best to get some final drawings finished. As he flipped through, he pointed out several drawings, mentioning that they were already complete. He suggested that since they were on sketchbook paper, the best route would probably be scanning them in and getting some prints made. Besides that, they’d be ready to go right away. I agreed wholeheartedly–except for that little part of me inside that was critiquing each drawing, saying, “well, yeah, it’s complete. you just have to fix a couple of those lines and clean up the color a bit, so actually it’s almost complete.”
At this point I think I have to admit that this thought process goes one step beyond belief. My inner critic, or this sense of how a finished piece should be, is deeply ingrained in me. Most of the time I don’t even notice when the wheels are turning and laying out my plan of attack for finishing a drawing.
I’m starting to realize that maybe a finished drawing doesn’t always have to be so perfect and clean. Maybe the sketchiness gives it some character, or adds meaning to the piece that I might not see.
Who would have thought that the process of finishing and framing a few pieces of art for a friend would reveal something about myself that before was at least partially hidden?
Now that I’m aware of my tendencies, I can hopefully stay aware of them when that inner critic comes up again, and look at my art in a different way, or at least pause to consider a different approach to the finished product.





































