Another lazy day at our house.  I think we are almost free and clear of this fun little bug we all caught, and I’ve washed all the clothes, the sheets, got new toothbrushes and sanitized all known pacifiers…so, fingers crossed that we will be back to running and jumping and skipping again soon.  In the meantime, in the midst of Dinosaur Train and Super Why, I was flipping through my pattern book some more, and decided to actually read a few pages, rather than just look at the patterns –crazy, I know.  Anyways, right at the very beginning, the author, Owen Jones, caught my attention.  Basically, his main point was that there is something beautiful in the most primitive of patterns, and that there is some naïveté and sincerity that is lost when a culture (and their art) advances.  Here are a few quotes I retrieved:

“In fact, what we seek in every work of Art, whether it be humble or pretentious, is the evidence of mind, –the evidence of the desire to create,…, and which all, feeling a natural instinct within them, are satisfied when they find it developed in others.”

“When Art is manufactured by combined effort, not originated by individual effort, we fail to recognise these true instincts which constitute its greatest charm.”

Now, I agree with him on this to a point.  I think that amazing things can be done when we work in a group.  I helped create a large public art piece that attests to that.  However, lately since I have been watching a lot of cartoons, especially during this bout of sickness, I have observed a few things:

1) The paintings done in some of the older Disney movies are Ah-mazing (The start of The Rescuers, the background of the 101 Dalmatians, etc.)

2) While the digital cartoons have advanced with each year, becoming more and more lifelike, and the staff to create these works become larger and larger, I wonder, is something lost?  Have they worked too hard to create “real” and now it looks more-fake-than-ever?

3) After watching some low-budget Tinkerbell movie, I noticed in the credits that all of the names were really long and complex, I think the names were Indian, but I am not positive.  Because of this, I assume that most of the art in the movie was out-sourced.  I don’t want to get into a debate (one of which, I know nothing about) the positives and negatives of out-sourcing, however, is there something lost when we become more and more removed from our creation?

I don’t know the answer to this question, and I know a ton of artist who hire and out-source their work.  For me, right now, I am drawn to the imperfections of an individual’s mark.  A crooked line has more value to me than a straight one.  Why? Because I can see the artist/individual’s intent behind that line.   I can feel their hand quiver as their brush follows down the page.  A crooked line may be rudimentary and imperfect, but at least it is honest.


My drawing today comes from a pattern in the book and can be found at my Etsy shop: myquiethouse

bw pattern 1 72




3 thoughts on “Intentions”

  1. I feel like you have to ask yourself to what extent you are still an artist if you outsource your work. Just how far does concept go? I went to see an exhibit by an artist named Sarah Oppenheimer that conceptually was interesting but she didn’t construct the work herself and had no idea how the parts all went together. That knowledge made me dislike her as an artist and quite frankly I questioned the legitimacy of her having work in a major museum.

    1. Yeah. I know. I think a lot of artists outsource or hire teams to build the work for them and they get the credit, because it was their idea. A lot of really beautiful and technically complex work is not done by the artists themselves anymore, and it’s almost like they become little corporations rather than what most people imagine an artist to be. I think there is a place for both in this world, however I do think that something genuine is lost when work is done in that manner.

  2. I really appreciate what you wrote in your last paragraph. I think the reason I like it is because Grandpa’s and my “canvas” is our yard, and it is always a work in progress. It changes as we come up with new ideas and so it never reaches completeness. To another viewer it may not look balanced or correct, but for us it is a creative joy. (Even tho’ we have sore muscles at the end of a working day).

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