Monday, May 26, 2014

What if your aesthetic doesn't match the actual work you produce?

So, I'm having sort of a dilemma right now.  It's not keeping me up nights, but it's on my mind a lot.

I have a bunch of time to be creative right now, and I don't want to squander it.  I'm having loads and loads of ideas--so many that I have to jot them down the moment I have them so that I don't lose them in the onslaught of more ideas.  Some of those are gardening ideas.  A bunch are creative nursery ideas (but if I work on those now, will I jinx the process?  If we're totally unprepared will we get a baby really quickly?). But a bunch are also illustrations and book ideas and toys and pillows.

My desk--that I'm trying to keep so so so clean--keeps getting littered with little scraps of paper with ideas on them.  It's great!  And a little overwhelming.

Here's the actual dilemma, though.  My aesthetic is really pared down, the simplest structure and line work as possible--just enough detail that some other person can understand the thing I have made.  My toys have eyes, but never mouths. I like big color fields.  My favorite color is all greys but the lightest versions that slip into pastels.  I hate pastels. I love all things natural as design elements, but also as textures (don't try to sneak polyester or rayon or Splenda or margarine on me.  I can always tell).  I believe that children's toys should appeal to them, but also to the adult that they will become, and I think they should fit into the decor of their family's home--wood blocks, naturally colored dolls.  And everything I make should be enduring.  It's construction and appeal should last.

But sometimes when I sit down to draw, it all gets really complicated or the colors are whacky.  I start with the idea that I am going to follow the things inside of me that define how I judge taste and the objects I allow in my house, and 20 minutes later, I've not followed any of those rules.  What's up with that?
These are slices of a series of heads I have created.  What?  I like them, but how do they get me to where I actually want to go? I don't have this problem with the dolls I make.  I buy yarn and fabric in colors that appeal to me.  But something about drawing digitally. . . there are so many options and cool things to play with.

So, help me/us out.  How do you create within the bounds of your aesthetic?  Does it just happen naturally or do you have to make a conscious effort to constrain yourself?  Where do our aesthetics even come from?  And do you think we can live two aesthetics--the aesthetic of what we create and the aesthetic of what we consume?

And maybe most importantly, is it important to have one strong look and feel for your work?  
 
I struggle with that. I love that when I see illustrations by Mercer Mayer that I can always recognize them.  But I also think it's pretty cool that there are Frank Lloyd Wright homes in Oak Park that you would never recognize as his designs if they weren't on the registry.

What if you want to try out loads of different "looks and feels" in your art work?  Is that a lack of commitment? Or is that unfettered creativity?  I don't know.

I'm not sure I can only still be having this conversation with myself. . . Thanks in advance for chiming in!

2 comments:

halemonster said...

Is it possible you're confusing Art with Design? Art, whose messy, process oriented creation is often considered a form of self-expression vs. Design, calculated creation with an end goal (in form and or function) in mind? Maybe you just have to slog through some of the surprises as an act towards refining the aesthetics of your work? Could be a powerful process!

Amy E Stewart said...

I guess that could be true, Hale. But my artwork is kind of design-y in end result. So maybe I'm not totally understanding your delineation between Art and Design. But it's totally interesting. Maybe what I'm doing is always design and I'm weirded out that it always gets more complicated and detailed than the minimalist thing I started out wanting to achieve. My brain wants a real "less is more" look, but my hands keep making Rube Goldbergs. . .