Monday, June 17, 2013

The Art of Redesign

The word redesign makes me cringe. I don't like redoing anything—it should be done right the first time—not five times past the first.

Inwardly I grieve for what can not be. But what can one do? The Committee has spoken—the change must be made, even if I strongly disagree with their decision.

Once you get over your disappointment—you have to decide what to do. Artists have to have thick skins in order to survive—but that doesn't mean that we are immune to the hurt. After all, what does one do with a rejected design?

Sometimes you can salvage the design—such as in the case of the cover Looking for a City—I was able to utilize the original background image from the rejected cover in the final design. This didn't make the redesign process any easier—but at least I was able to focus more on the type design instead of worrying about what was going to go behind it.

Then there are times when you can't salvage anything from the rejected cover. And you wonder, as you stare at your computer screen, how you could ever top your original design—especially when it fit the topic so perfectly. You end up asking yourself: What am I going to do with my rejected design?

This is what I have found—it might not work for everyone, but this is how my creative brain works—you never throw out any idea . . .

You re-shelve it for later use

Spend some time with your imagination

Think of the things that make you laugh

Let your child with-in recover



Visit your creative library

 Sit in the weird artistic chair

Slide down the whimsical staircase

Make yourself comfortable


Switch rooms

Take a walk

Drink tea

Recharge [with a cat]

Find a left brain friend to run ideas by
[if they don't understand it—idea might be too brilliant,
to the point that no one—except yourself will truly ever understand it]

Except the challenge and let your creativity flow.
After all, if the committee can't see the brilliance behind your design—it's their loss.

Remember that you are unique . . . don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

I am the right brain.
I am creativity. A free spirit. I am passion.
Yearning. Sensuality. I am the sound of roaring laughter. 
I am taste. The feeling of sand beneath bare feet.
I am movement. Vivid colors.
I am the urge to paint on an empty canvas.
I am boundless imagination. Art. Poetry. I sense. I feel.
I am everything I wanted to be.

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Roses are Red

When I was growing up, I was taught that . . .

Trees are Green
Roses are Red
Sky is Blue

Barns are Red

Clouds are White
Flowers are Yellow

Violets are Blue

My crayon and marker drawings stayed true, until my parents enrolled me in a two week summer painting class. Our teacher (bless his heart) was very traditional and always said "like so" after every instruction. Apparently, I was the rebellious child and he saw it as his duty to curve my unruly artistic ways.

"Barns are not green." He emphasized the last word as he studied my masterpiece. Our assignment had been to copy his painting. The rest of the class had done just that—and to them he gave praise. But as I was dutifully coping his painting, I decided that a red barn would blend in with the burnt umber treeline. And so, mine was green.

It was my first artistic rebellion, but it was most certainly not my last.

Trees are Whimsical
Roses are Elegent
Sky is my Backdrop

Barns Protect

Clouds speak Emotion

Flowers bring Happiness
Violets show Comfort

And lastly, in the line of art—rules are meant to be broken.

© 2008 by me