I have a strange fetish for two dimensional pictures that I believe to be the result of artistic childishness; I can't draw convincing three dimensional people or objects, and instead of pushing myself to learn perspective and proportions I have allowed myself to regress back to my two dimensional world in everything I draw. This failing turned fetish has biased my preferences for any art or design, and I have turned away from the current 3D mania in movies and video games. I want everything on the surface, like old-school Nintendo, and the first person shooters tend to fill me with existential dread. If I was given a choice of virtual reality afterlives, I'd go for the 2D, like an eternal webpage with comics. And I draw pictures like this one, flat with the whole story on the surface.
One interesting result is that people think I'm drawing abstract art, when I never do. Abstract art is based upon all kinds of beneath the surface meanings, but I never put anything beneath the surface. Not abstract. No themes or symbolism. For this one I was drawing a port, with two dimensional buildings and little boats in it. The shapes further out are are plants growing on islands. Obviously an art major might be able to sleuth out some subconscious meanings in the picture, but really, it's a port with little ships in an alien, two dimensional world.
If I suddenly became a famous abstract artist and sold pictures for loads of money, and people asked me what a picture meant, I might not say the same thing. I might say it the first time someone asked me, but if they seemed disappointed or if I felt embarrassed, I might say something like I was "toying with shapes". Then I might read critical reviews referring to "exploration of organic forms" or something very cool like that, and I might prefer to say that instead of "little alien ships". I might start referring to "pieces" instead of "drawings".
I just realized that there was a Kurt Vonnegut book, "Bluebeard", where the protagonist, an abstract artist, says about the same thing; that he has silly stories in mind when he does his pieces. I'm a little disappointed to be imitating his idea, but I think my backstories for my pictures are more embarrassing. His were about a deer or something. And I do not claim to do or try to do abstract drawings. I was just saying that I might change my tune if I became rich, which is a completely different theme than Vonnegut was pursuing.
This picture would be much better in color too. That would be another failing I have; letting ultimate intent skew current method. I drew the picture with the idea at the back of my mind that it would be colored, and so drew a less interesting, un-colored picture instead of an intended black and white celebration of its own monochromatic nature sort of picture, like ansel Adams photos. I also do the opposite; I add colors to a picture, in line with earlier intent, that actually mar the black and white picture, because it didn't need any colors and was drawn to be without colors, by myself, because I forgot about the colors halfway through the picture and drew it to be black and white. The moral of the story is don't add color unless it needs color, but you'll never know if it needs color unless you're a real artist, so the moral of the story is I never know and neither by the laws of probability will you the reader because my mother is not an artist either.
I may use computer technology to color the picture later, using the magic wand and the button with the sloshing paint bucket, but for some reason, probably age-related, a drawing task that I wouldn't mind spending two hours doing by hand seems almost unbearably difficult if it would take more than five minutes on the computer.
No comments:
Post a Comment